Marks on the Wall
by RyansDreamMaker
Summary: Spending the next year as Monroe's prisoner will be the one of the hardest things Charlie has ever done. But not driving him crazy will be even harder. Slow burn Charloe.
1. Chapter 1

**Day 1**

Several militia guards shoved her into the room, through the still open door, she could see several more guards dragging Miles further down the hallway of Independence Hall.

A man that appeared to be in his early thirties, with black hair and creepy brown eyes, stared down at her triumphantly. "Sit tight kitten, I'll be back soon."

A chill ran up Charlie's spine as she watched the man, or creep, slam the door of the cell closed.

Well, if you could really call this a cell.

It was a large bedroom, with two windows along one wall, that all had bars on them of course, and there was an armchair sitting in between them. The large bed was set against the opposite wall, made up with fluffy white sheets, and a trunk sitting at the foot of the bed. The wall next to the door leading out into the hallway had a small vanity with a stool sitting in front of it. The far wall had two doors, and thinking that she had found her escape, Charlie ran towards them.

Nope. The door on the right was just an empty closet, and the door on the left was a bathroom. She entered the generously sized room and found a tub of fresh water sitting next to the sink, and a large clawfoot bathtub in the corner. Further inspection of the room showed that there was water in the toilet, frowning, she gave the handle on the side an experimental push.

It worked.

Of course, Monroe gets to enjoy his indoor plumbing while the rest of the Republic starves to death.

She went back out into the bedroom and went to the door, leaning against it to see if she could hear anything. There was no noise on the other side, so she tried the door knob.

Locked.

She wiggled it and pushed on the door, but it remained firmly in place. She needed to get out of here, she needed to find Miles, and she needed to get back to Danny.

_**Earlier that day**_

_"Charlie, run!" Miles' face, which usually remained so calm, was showing the fear he had been keeping at bay ever since Charlie had showed up at his bar in Chicago._

_But his apparent fear was no match for Charlie's stubborness._

_"No, I am not leaving you." Her usually bright blue eyes were hard, and he knew he wasn't going to win this argument._

_"Fine," he turned desperately to Nora, "get Rachel and Danny, and get them the hell out of here. We'll catch up with you guys at the rendevous point."_

_Nora shook her head at him. "Miles, there's no way you guys can do this, there's too many-"_

_"I said, go!" Miles was screaming at her, his eyes begging her to understand. He has to do this._

_Nora nodded her head shakily, "ok, but be careful Miles." She grabbed Miles' face between her hands and pressed a kiss to his lips before running off in the direction of the Rebels' base camp, where Rachel and Danny were helping with the injured._

_Miles looked sideways at his niece. Three months ago, she was this stupid, little farm girl that showed up begging for his help on some crazy suicide mission. But now, looking at the fierce determination in her eyes, there was no denying, she is a warrior._

_"Are you sure you wanna do this? It's not to late for you to go with your mom and Danny."_

_She could see the tension in his face and hear the sadness in his voice. He thinks they've already lost. _

_"No. I already told you, we stick together."_

_Her courage and loyalty pushed away his self-doubt, and he pulled his sword from his belt._

_"Then let's go kick some ass."_

**Present**

That had been early this morning. She and Miles had been caught less than an hour later, and Monroe's men had thrown them into a wagon, taking them back to Philadelphia. Back to Monroe.

Her first encounter with him hadn't been anything like what she was expecting. In her mind, Monroe was like the monster under her bed. Big, mean, and ugly with a side of crazy. The reality of meeting him proved that he's definately mean and crazy.

Big and ugly? Not so much.

Not that she's actually attracted to him. She's willing to admit that Monroe is good looking, but the whole I'm-the-psyco-that-kidnapped-your-brother-and-killed-your-dad thing, kind of ruins it for her.

Charlie throws her shoulder against the door in an attempt to break out of her large, and admittedly luxerious, prison cell. It doesn't budge, so she tries again, and again, and again. Nothing. Her shoulder is starting to hurt, but she doesn't care, she gives it one more big push and... nothing.

She steps back from the door, gripping her now sore shoulder. She stares at it as if she can get the door to open by merely willing it to happen with her mind.

But again, nothing.

Not that she really expected that to work.

But losing the battle doesn't mean you've lost the war, so she looks around the room for another exit. Her eyes spot an old vent just above the headboard of the brass bedstead. Jumping up onto the bed, and ignoring how soft it is, she reaches up and pulls at the vent screen. It comes off remarkably easier than she was expecting, but she pays no mind to that as she climbs onto the headboard to squeeze herself into the hole.

Well, guess that plan isn't going to work either.

The vent appears to have a sheet of metal blocking anyone from escaping. There is a small slip of paper sitting in front of it.

_'Nice try.'_

Charlie's blood is boiling, anger coursing through her veins. That smug son of a bitch, actually took the time to write that note and put it in the air duct. She pushes at the metal inside, but it doesn't move. In her anger, she punches and pushes some more.

"Your wasting your time." She whips around to find a blonde man with broad shoulders staring up at her. She's seen him before, he's the Captain that Miles turned himself into, but she can't remember his name. So she says nothing, she simply stares at him while she continues to stand on the bed.

The Captain seems unbothered by her silence. "The President takes security very seriously. If you had actually managed to escape, he probably would have had you tortured to find out how you did it right before he shot you in the head."

He looked so calm, standing there, talking about shooting her in the head.

So again, she opted for silence.

Captain-guy seemed to realize that she didn't plan on speaking to him, so he opened the door before looking back at her to speak. "I was sent to tell you that Miles said 'sit tight.' "

That got her attention, but rather than letting her ask any questions, he snapped the door shut behind him.

Charlie yelled at the door in frustration, "what the hell are you talking about!" She jumped down from the bed and ran to the door, beating her fists against it. "Where is Miles? Let me out of here!"

Silence.

She hit the door a few more times just for good measure before retreating over to the windows. Examining the glass, she decided that even if she managed to shatter it, there was no way she would be able to squeeze through the metal bars fitted over the window.

There was no other way out. As much as she hated the idea of 'sitting tight' she knew that she didn't have a choice. So she went to the armchair placed between the windows and sat down. The adrenaline from the day was starting to wear off, her body was tired and her eyes were already drooping. Charlie fell into an uneasy sleep as the afternoon turned into evening.

OpOpOpOpOp

"Charlie, hey, kid, wake up." She was startled out of sleep by Miles standing over her. She smiled up at him and breathed a sigh of relief, deciding that her trip to Independence Hall must have simply been a nightmare.

Wrong.

As she sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, vaugly registering the room around her as she took in Miles' appearance. He looked remarkably cleaner than the last time she had seen him and he was wearing new clothes. A navy blue jacket with matching pants.

Oh shit.

"Miles, why are you wearing a militia uniform?" Her heart was racing and the tiny bit of doubt she had, about whether or not Miles would stick with her, was busting through. "You're back with Monroe?" She could feel the tears forming in her eyes. "How could you? You said that-"

Miles grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. "Charlie, stop it. I don't have a lot of time, so we can't waste it arguing."

Charlie furrowed her brow, "what? What are you talking about? What's going-"

Miles put his hand over her mouth to make her shut up. "Now I want you to listen, listen to everything I say before you say anything else. Got it?" He waited for her to nod before removing his hand from her mouth. He sat back on his heels and looked away from her guiltily.

"I have to go away for a while... I told Bass that I would go to California for him." Charlie looked like she was about to start screaming so he held up his hand to stop her.

"I don't have a choice kid. I knew when we came here that our chances of getting out of here alive were slim, but I wasn't counting on being captured. I don't want to be here, I'm done with the Republic and Bass, and I know you just want to get Danny and go home. So I made a deal.

"I have to go to California to get some stupid treaty signed for Bass, then when I get back, he'll let us both go free. And he agreed to leave your mom alone."

Charlie snorted, "and you believe him?"

Shaking his head, Miles gave her a sad smile. "No. But if I don't agree then he's gonna kill us both, so this is the only way I can keep you safe."

Charlie looked away from him, she couldn't stand to see her uncle look so defeated. "So when do we leave?"

His brown eyes found hers and he shook his head sadly, guilt radiating off of him.

Realization dawned on her and she jumped up from her seat. "No. No way, I'm not staying here."

Miles stood up, his height making him tower over her. "You don't have a choice, it was part of the deal. It's the only way he can make sure I'll do what I'm supposed to. He keeps you here, and I have to play good little soldier in order to make sure you stay safe."

"And what makes you think he won't kill me the moment you walk out the front door?"

"He won't."

"How do you know?"

"Because he's hoping that I'll decide to stay when I get back, and he knows that I won't even consider it if your not here."

Charlie eyed her uncle uneasily, "are you? Considering staying, I mean."

"No. Definately not, but letting him think that I am will help keep you safe."

Just then, the door opened and the blonde Captain-guy came in, shutting the door behind him. "Sorry Miles, time's up."

Charlie looked between the man and Miles quickly, her heart dropping into her stomache. He's really going to do this. He's really leaving.

As if Miles could read her mind, he pulled her into a bone crushing hug and whispered into her hair. "I'll be back as soon as I can. I promise. Stick with Jeremy, he's gonna keep an eye on you for me."

Her vocal cords didn't seem to be working, all of her words burning out in her throat before they reached her lips, so she nodded into his chest.

Captain-guy cleared his throat and Miles separted himself from her, trying to hide the moisture in his eyes. "Try to keep the stupid to a minimum, alright?"

She took a deep breath and nodded, trying to smile. "I make no promises."

He smirked at her as he walked towards the door, nodding at Captain-guy before he left. Anger at Monroe for being stuck here mixed with the fear of being his newest prisoner swept over her and she sunk back down into the armchair, numb with shock.

Charlie hadn't even noticed that Captain-guy was still in the room until he walked over to one of the windows. He looked out at something that she assumed was down on the street below. "There he goes." His voice sound... sad, like he was going to miss whoever 'he' was.

Curiosity got the better of her and she went to the other window to see who was leaving.

Miles.

Yes, he had just told her that he had to leave, but she hadn't honestly thought it would be right this second. It was almost dark outside already. And if she was being perfectly honest with herself, she had figured that they would come up with some sort escape plan before he had to leave. But there he went. Riding down the road with a few dozen other soldiers on horseback.

As soon as his horse was out of sight, Captain-guy turned to her with sympathy on his face. "Look, I know this sucks, but trust me this was the only way."

Who the hell does this guy think he is?

"Get away from me."

"Charlie, listen-"

Her anger flared up at his use of her chosen name. That name is for friends, family, and he is neither one.

"You don't know me, don't call me that."

He seemed mildy irritated by her behavior, but managed to calm himself down. "I'm friends with Miles, and I need you to listen to me because I need to get back-"

"How do you know him?" But Miles words came floating back into her mind, 'Stick with Jeremy.'

"Are you Jeremy?"

He seemed overcome with relief for a moment, but then his face turned tense. "Yes, I am. So now you need to listen to me because I have to go back upstairs and tell Bass that Miles is gone and that your going to sit down here and be a good little girl."

Charlie raised an eyebrow at him, prepared to tell him just how stupid he must be if he really thought that that was going to happen.

"No, listen to me, he's got Pittman."

Charlie's stomach started to churn. "What do you mean? You guys have Aaron?"

"The fat guy? Yeah, they found him wandering around by himself about an hour from the Rebels' base camp."

"Well Monroe can't hurt him, Miles said-"

"Actually he can. Bass didn't tell Miles that Pittman was here, so the deal they made was just for your safety. It's a bullshit technicality, but Bass is desperate. He's going to use you to manipulate Miles into doing what he wants. Then he's going to use Pittman to make you cooperate until Miles gets back.

"If you don't play nice, Bass won't hesitate to kill your friend. Believe me Charlie, he's unstable as it is. Don't start pushing his buttons or you might end up getting your friend killed." With that, Jeremy moved to leave.

"Now in a little bit, an older woman named Madelyn, is going to come in here and bring you some new clothes and some bath water. Clean up, get dressed, and then come to dinner. Play nice." He turned and opened the door, "and do me a favor, don't piss off Madelyn. She's a sweet old lady, but when you make her mad, everybody in the house suffers."

A man appeared behind Jeremy, and Charlie noticed that it was the creepy guy with black hair from earlier. "Oh, this is Private Nevins, he's your guard. He'll escort you to all of your meals and stand watch outside of the door to keep you from escaping."

And then he was gone, the door shut firmly behind him. Leaving her to process all of the information that had been dumped into her lap in the last fifteen minutes.

Miles left to go to California to keep her safe, he doesn't know that Monroe has Aaron, Monroe will kill Aaron if she makes him mad, Jeremy is her friend (sort of), don't piss off whoever the hell Madelyn is, and creeper-Nevins is her new jailor.

It could take more than a year for Miles to get to California and back.

She is a prisoner in Independence Hall until then.

Great.

But on the bright side, Jeremy said that Madelyn's bringing water for a bath.

* * *

><p>AN This is going to be a super slow burn Charloe, but it is a Charloe story. We have a lot of ground to cover before miles gets back from California, so I have lots of fun planned in the meantime. Tell me what you think, I love reviews!


	2. Chapter 2

**Day 1 continued**

As the sun set and the room began to darken, Charlie looked around, wondering whether or not there were any lamps in the room to brighten it up. Unable to find one, she readied herself to ask her new jailor, Private Nevins, if he could find her one. But before she even crossed the room to knock on the door, it swung open, and an old woman pushing a serving cart came into the room.

The woman appeared to be in her sixties, she was short and thin looking, as if you could snap her in half with a simple touch. She had a kind face, but had a no-nonsense air about her. She had long, silvery hair that was styled up in a tight bun. The dress she wore was plain grey and went down to her mid-calf, and a simple white apron was tied around her waist.

The woman looked Charlie up and down before turning to her cart to look through the pile of brown wrapped packages on the second shelf. She finally picked one up and started to unwrap it, all the while talking out loud in an annoyed voice, though whether it was directed to Charlie or at herself was a little unclear.

"Absolutely ridiculous. Dragging you across the country. How could he be so stupid."

Charlie wasn't sure if this woman was trying to be funny, or if she frequently spoke to herself. Once initial shock of the womans strange entrance had worn off, Charlie realized that this must be the Madelyn woman that Jeremy had told her about.

"Um, are you talking to me?" Charlie was hesitant to speak. Jeremy's parting words had been to be careful not to piss this woman off.

When Charlie spoke, the woman looked up at her in surprise, but quickly recovered as she finished pulling the paper off of her package and set what appeared to be a brand new hair brush at the end of the bed.

"No, I was mumbling to myself about your ridiculous uncle. Who would drag their precious, little niece across the country just to have her locked up?" Madelyn shook her head disapprovingly, "honestly, the man doesn't think. But, don't worry!" She turned to Charlie with a bright smile on her face, "I've got everything we need to get you ready for dinner."

Hurrying back to her cart, she grabbed a few more wrapped packages and handed one of them to Charlie. "Unwrap that for me would you, sweetheart? I think that's your shampoo." She looked at Charlie expectantly, waiting for her to take the package out of her hands.

Charlie was tempted not to cooperate with her because she was being held here against her will. Then she remembered that Monroe had Aaron. So she took the package from Madelyn, uncovering a small bottle that was filled with some sort of gel. She unscrewed the cap and was plesantly surprised by the fresh lemon scent that filled her nose.

Madelyn seemed to have noticed the small smile on her face because she grinned and said, "I'm glad you like it. I spent fifteen minutes in the market trying to pick one that I thought you would like."

Suddenly feeling kind of guilty, Charlie prepared to thank the woman, but was interupted by the door opening. A long line of militia soldiers came through the door. Charlie's first instinct had been to reach for her weapon, but when her hand reached her empty belt, she remembered that they had all been confiscated back at the Rebel base.

Luckily though, the weapon wasn't necessary. The soldiers were each carrying a large bucket of steaming water and all headed straight into the bathroom. Madelyn watched their progression approvingly before turning her attenton back to the packages.

"Alright, we've got towles, a hair brush, soap, shampoo, pants, a shirt, and some undergarments." She indicated the pile of fabrics on the top shelf of her cart as the soldiers exited the room, closing the door behind them. "Now I had to guess your sizes, so if anything doesn't fit I can take it back in the morning."

She handed Charlie a brand new pair of simple, white, cotton underwear and a bra that was made with the same material. Then held up a pair of black pants and a light blue blouse for her to look at.

"Your uncle suggested you might prefer pants rather than a dress, so I found something nice for you to wear to dinner tonight. I picked up a few other things while I was out, but I didn't have time to carry them all home, so Thomas is going to deliver them after he closes up the shop.

"I wasn't able to get you any shoes though, Josiah, the man that runs the shoe shop, had already closed by the time I got there. But don't worry, you can go bare foot for tonight and I'll get you some new shoes tomorrow."

Of all of the many things the woman had said in the last ten minutes, that was the one thing that caught Charlie's attention.

"Wait, why can't I wear my boots?" Madelyn raised an eyebrow at her as if she thought Charlie was being deliberately dense.

"Your boots won't match your pants, dear. Besides, you can't wear those filthy things around the house, you'll dirty up all of my carpets." The look she gave Charlie clearly said that the topic was not up for discusion.

"Alright, now into the bath. Get yourself clean and dressed. I have to go put the finishing touches on dinner and then I'll come back to help you with your hair." Madelyn left the room in a hurry. Charlie had wanted to tell her not to bother with her hair, but the woman looked so damn excited to be doing it, that she was sure Madelyn would have gotten upset about it.

Thinking about the steaming water that had been brought in, Charlie grabbed all of the things Madelyn had brought for her and headed into the bathroom, setting them down on the counter.

The hot water felt amazing on her skin as she dipped her hand in the tub to test it. She quickly stripped out of her dirty clothes, noticing that they were caked with dirt and dried blood. The mirror hanging above the sink revealed that her face was just as dirty, cuts and bruises covered her skin and looking down at her body she realized that the rest of her didn't look any better.

Sinking into the hot water, Charlie watched as the dirt and grime, from weeks of traveling without a proper bath, literally rolled off of her. She used the shampoo to wash her hair before using the washcloth and the bar of soap the clean the rest of her body. Rinsing off as best as she could in the now dirty water, Charlie stood up and grabbed the towel off of the counter. After she dried herself off, she went to inspect her new clothes.

Which were actually new. Aparently, the people in the capital aren't fond of hand-me-downs.

The underwear fit perfectly, and the simple bra fit well enough. It was just a little loose, but Charlie wasn't going to complain. The pants were a bit tight around her butt, but Charlie had gotten used to that as she had grown older. Aparently, pants weren't made for women who had butts. She pulled the blouse over her head and was pleased to find that it wasn't over-the-top girly. The neckline was high enough to keep her comfortably covered, and the soft faric flowed around her body rather than hugging tightly to it.

Stepping back into the bedroom, she realized how insane this whole thing was. This morning, she had been hanging out with Danny and Miles at base camp while they waited for the Rebels to get their shit together. But they had been too late. Now here she was, taking a bath and getting all dressed up to have dinner with Monroe.

Madelyn came back into the room and nearly squealed with delight when she saw Charlie standing there. She came over to her, pulling on the waistband of her pants, straightening the sleeves on her shoulders, and flattening out some imaginary wrinkles in her shirt.

"You look beautiful. Does everything fit? How about the bra? That was the hardest thing to guess on, especially since I hadn't actually seen you before so the only thing I had to go on was Mr. Matheson's description. And I'm sure you can imagine your uncle hadn't spent much time wondering about your bra size."

That woman talked a mile a minute and Charlie wasn't sure which of those things she was supposed to respond to. So she settled for laughing to herself about Miles not knowing her bra size and nodding her head for Madelyn to see.

"Everything fits fine, thank you."

The excitement was evident in the older woman's face, "good, good, good. Now come sit so we can get your hair done. We woudn't want you to be late for dinner."

Oh no, we wouldn't want that.

She motioned to the stool in front of the vanity and Charlie had to work hard in order to supress a groan. Sweet old lady or not, Charlie hated being peoples dress-up doll.

Remember Charlie, don't piss her off.

So she reluctantly sat down on the stool, and Madelyn got right to work. She used the brush to comb out the tangles in her hair and work it into her usual soft waves, then she pulled another small package from the pocket of her apron. Inside of the package was a blue hair clip that matched Charlie's blouse. Madelyn used it to pin back her hair on the right side before standing back to admire her handywork.

"Perfect. Now let's get moving, dinner is waiting." She hurried Charlie out of the seat and out the door.

In the hallway, Private Nevins looked her over. Charlie noticed the way his eyes lingered on the neckline of her blouse and the curve of her pants over her ass. His gaze made her uncomfortable, like she needed to run back into the bathroom and take another bath. Madelyn however, didn't seem to notice his behavior.

"Doesn't she look wonderful, Private?"

He leered at her and licked his lips. "She is absolutely stunning, Madelyn. Excellent work."

The older woman blushed as she started to lead them through Independence Hall. Charlie's feet were cold against the hardwood floor. She ignored the conversation happening between the housekeeper and her guard in favor of scoping out her surroundings. There were guards stationed at the end of every hallway and some of the doors that they passed had guards in front of them as well.

Down the hall to the left, past a flight of stairs take another left, down the hall make a right, and then Madelyn stopped them in front of the third door on the left. The most interesting thing about their walk to the dining room was the line of boots sitting neatly on the floor next to the door. Charlie stared at them for a moment, wondering why in the hell they were there.

Madelyn seemed to notice her confusion because she laughed and said, "I told you, dear, I don't like anyone getting dirt on my carpets."

Charlie laughed out loud, she couldn't help it. Imagining a room full of boot-less soldiers was too funny, especially when it was because of the elderly housekeeper. Madelyn smiled, seemingly pleased with herself for putting Charlie in a better mood.

Too bad it couldn't last.

The door to the dining room swung open, revealing a grinning Jeremy. "Wow, you clean up nice." He was taking in her appearance appreciatively, and she found that it wasn't unsettling like when Nevins had done it.

Actually, she kind of like the attention.

Not that she'd ever admit that.

Charlie couldn't help but smile back, "yeah, it's amazing how much better I look when I'm not covered in blood." They laughed together and for a moment, just that split second, she forgot that she was a prisoner here. She forgot that Aaron's life was on the line. She forgot about Monroe. For that split second, she was just a girl, flirting shamelessly with a good looking guy.

Then Monroe decided it was time to ruin her little fantasy.

"Yes, Charlotte, you look much better now that you've had the chance to clean up." Charlie glared at him, her momentary lapse over, while his eyes raked over her body. She fidgeted uncomfortably under his gaze.

Here she was, wanting nothing more than to shove her fingers into his eye sockets, and Monroe was standing there admiring her body.

Pervert.

Her anger from earlier was coming back in full force, and must have Jeremy noticed, because he took her by the arm and guided her into the room with a look on his face that clearly said 'please don't do anything stupid.'

The dining room was large and well lit by the candle chandelier and the large fireplace at the end of the room. The long wooden table and chairs were the only furniture pieces in the room. Most of the chairs were already filled by several high ranking officers, some she recognized, some she had never seen.

Jeremy was guiding her to a chair at the end of the table closest to the door with a hand on her lower back.

But apparently, Monroe had other ideas.

"Thank you, Captain Baker, but I can take her from here." Monroe was smiling at her, his face glowing, but it didn't reach his eyes. They were cold and harsh. Nora had once told her that Miles and Monroe used to be friends, right now, she couldn't see how that would be possible.

He was holding out his hand for her to take, all eyes in the room were on her. She could practically feel Jeremy next to her, begging her to play along with his little game. Monroe clearly didn't plan on proceeding until she accepted his hand, so she had two options.

One: She could take it and seal her fate as his newest pet Matheson and bruise her ego in the process.

Or two: She could refuse. Risk Aaron's life for a little bit of payback and keeping her pride.

Unfortunately, the choice wasn't all that difficult.

She silently placed her hand into his proffered one, and was surprised by the gentle way he guided her to the opposite end of the table. Monroe dropped her hand to pull out the chair on the right side of the head of the table, which was presumably his seat, and waited for her to sit down, pushing her chair in for her.

What the hell was going on?

The uncomfortable silence that had settle over the room when she walked in still hadn't lifted. It seemed that Monroe's senior officers were more interested in how his little game was going to play out rather than small talk.

Now that she was in her seat, Charlie took in the people around her. Thankfully, Jeremy had taken the seat directly across from her, but that thankful feeling disappeared when she saw the man sitting to the right of him.

Neville.

Unable to control her sudden anger, Charlie jumped out of her seat. "You son of a bitch, I-"

But what she was going to do, she never got to say. She was stopped by a large, cold hand wrapped tighty arond her throat. Gasping for air, she managed to turn her head enough to look into the face of the man sitting next to her. She knew those eyes. Lifeless, cold, dead.

Strausser.

That man had held a gun to her head, and had been planning on shooting her if her mom hadn't agreed to do what Monroe wanted. The room around her was completely silent except for the ringing in her ears. Lack of oxygen was making her feel light headed and she was so tempted to simply close her eyes and go to sleep, to feel that blissful escape.

To see her dad again.

"That's enough." Monroe's voice cut through the ringing in her ears and the hand clamped around her throat released, sending her to the floor choking for air. She remained there, trying to catch her breath and steady her heart beat. When she finally did look up, it was to find Monroe staring down at her intently from his seat.

"Now Charlotte, my staff has been nothing but courteous to you since your arrival, so I am going to ask you to show them the same respect. I made a deal with Miles, you will be safe here, but that does not mean that you will not be subject to punishment." Monroe's face was cruel and unforgiving, but he looked away from her to turn his attention to the plate of food in front of him. "Sit in your chair, and eat your dinner quietly like a good girl, Charlotte. I don't want to have to fire Sergeant Strausser for accidentally killing you."

Shock, anger, rage, hatred. All of the above. She clenched her fists, trying to get a grip on her emotions. The wooden chair that she was supposed to be sitting in had been knocked back when she jumped up to confront Neville, so she rose up onto shakey legs to sit it upright. She slid into her seat silently, fighting the urge to pick up her fork and stab Monroe in the neck with it.

That wouln't solve anything. That would just make his officers angry, and she was fairly certain that she couldn't take on the entire room by herself. Or even if Jeremy were to help her.

She ate her food silently, refusing to look up from her plate. Besides Jeremy, Neville, and Strausser, Charlie didn't recognize any of the other officers that were present. Though by listening to all of them talk she learned that two of them were named Ward and Robinson. She listened intently to the conversation happening around her. It was all so-and-so did this, and blah-blah happened over here.

Basically, she had been bullied into sitting through the most unentertaining dinner she had ever had.

She would have rather listened to Aaron blab on about trigonometry.

Nearing the end of the meal, dessert was brought in. It was some sort of custard, or maybe it was pudding, she couldn't be sure. Cooking had never really been her thing. She ate quickly, hoping that if she finished early she could at least go back to her room, but that had been a mistake. No one made a move to let her leave early and now she had nothing to do to occupy herself, so she was stuck looking around at the people at the table.

Jeremy caught her eye and gave her an encouraging smile. Well, at least she figured that was what it was meant to be. But all it did was make her feel worse. He was encouraging her to keep playing along, but she didn't want to play this stupid game.

She wanted to go home. She wanted her freedom. She wanted her life back.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught Strausser staring at her. Against her will, her head turned in his directon with an uneasy question on her face. He smiled at her, if you could really call that a smile, it felt more like he was trying to eat her with his eyes. Stomach churning uncomfortably, she tried to scoot her chair away from him without drawing attention to herself.

"Something wrong, Charlotte?" Monroe's continued use of that name was really starting to grate on her nerves. That coupled witht that fact that this had probably been the worst day of her life, made her ignore all the warning bells going off in her head.

"Is something wrong? Of course there is you sick bastard! Your keeping me here like some human pet so you can use me against Miles, and you've got me sitting next to your resident psycopath!" She had stood up again, her chair lay on the floor somewhere behind her.

Monroe merely glanced at her and pointed to her chair laying sideways on the floor. "Sit down, Charlotte. Stop acting like such a child, we have business to discuss." And then they were talking again, like she hadn't interupted at all. She grabbed her chair and sat back down, but nearly jumped out of her seat when she felt a hand on her arm.

Strausser was stroking the skin of her bare forearm. Her skin was crawling, but when she tried to get away he tightened his grip on her arm, yanking her closer to him. "You look so much like your mother." She tried to pull away, but his grip on her arm was deathly tight. He chuckled lightly at her attempts to escape and reached out with his other hand, running his fingers down her cheek. "So beautiful, just like her. I bet you and I can have just a much fun."

The insinuation that went with the word 'fun' nearly had her vomiting all over him. Disturbing images of her mother locked in a room with this freak went flying through her mind, making her fight or flight responses start kick in. Charlie felt like she was on the verge of a well earned nervous breakdown, and was about to have it, when Monroe finally decided to speak up.

"That's enough, Sergeant." Charlie's head whipped in his direction so fast it made her neck crack. Monroe's face was calm, but everyone in the room could tell that Strausser had crossed some imaginary line.

"Sir, I'm sor-" Strausser attempted to apologize, but Monroe silenced him with a wave of his hand.

"Captain Baker, escort Charlotte back to her room please."

Jeremy practically jumped from his seat, saluting Monroe as he went. "Yes, sir." He moved quickly around the table to where Charlie was still seated. She was so confused now. Monroe nearly let the guy choke her to death, but touching her cheek wasn't ok?

Not that she was complaining. At least now she got to go back to her room.

Her body however, didn't appear to be on the same page as her mind, because she was still sitting in her chair, staring open mouthed at Monroe when Jeremy grabbed her elbow and pulled her up from the seat. He ushered her quickly from the room, nodding at various other officers before snapping the dining room door shut behind them.

As soon as they were in the hallway, Charlie's brain finally kicked into gear. "What the hell-"

"Shhhhh, not here, wait until we get back to your room." He gave her a pleading look and she impatiently complied, tapping her bare foot on the floor while he put his boots back on.

Nevins followed them all the way back to her room and took up his post just outside of her door as Jeremy shut it behind them. Before she could even get a word out, Jeremy started talking.

"I know your pissed. Ok? But don't freak out. This is actually a good thing." Charlie merely blinked at him and he sighed while he sat down on the end of the bed. "Look, Bass is just trying to put you in your place, you know, make you see that he's in charge here.

"But him not letting Strausser touch you like that? That's huge, Charlie. That means that he really does intend to keep you safe while your here." He got up from the bed and went to the door, "he'll be expecting me back, so I gotta go. I'll see you at breakfast, alright?" He gave her another encouraging smile and left her to sit in her new room by herself.

She hadn't even been in Independence Hall for twenty-four hours, and yet, it already felt like a lifetime.

Madelyn had obviously been back in the room because there was a pale pink, sleeveless nightgown laid out on the bed. Charlie stipped out of her new clothes and pulled it on, the soft cotton rubbing against her skin. The sheets on the bed were clean and crisp, she slid between them and pulled the blanket high up on her shoulder. The skin around her neck burned and she had to resist the urge to scratch at it. Her body was exhausted, but her mind was working overtime.

Strausser, Neville, her mom, Miles, Madelyn, Jeremy.

Monroe.

The last thing she remembered thinking before she fell asleep was that if she was stuck here, then at least Monroe was planning on keeping his end of the deal.

* * *

><p>AN I know that this is a lot of transition kind of stuff, but I had to get everything for the rest of the story set up before we could get to the fun stuff. Don't worry, we'll get there soon! Thanks for reading, and leave a review if you have a second. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Day 2**

Charlie woke slowly, yawning and stetching as the warm sunlight filtered through the windows. The strange pattern that the sunlight made on her blanket forced her look up to the windows.

Oh. The bars fitted over the large window were causing the strange pattern reflected on her bed. She was still in Idependence Hall, and all hopes of this whole thing being one seriously fucked up nightmare went out the window.

Climbing out of the bed, she went into the bathroom to relieve herself. She cleaned up using the tub of water next to the sink, and cringed when she saw the angry purple bruise around her neck in the mirror. Thinking about Strausser's hand around her neck made her skin crawl, so she pushed all of those mental images aside.

As she returned to the bedroom, the door leading out to the hallway flung open. Madelyn rushed in, her eyes immediately falling on Charlie and taking in the nightgown that she was still wearing.

"Oh no, ma'am, Miss Matheson. Your going to be late for breakfast at this rate." The woman hurried into the closet and returned with a bundle of clothes. "Now, you get dressed and knock on the door when your ready, Private Nevins will bring you down. And hurry, the President is in a bad mood as it is, we wouldn't want to upset him even more."

Madelyn was rushing off to the door, but Charlie's curiosity was overwhelming. "Wait, why is he already mad?"

The housekeeper gave her another one of those looks, the ones that made Charlie feel like an idiot. "The man has a country to run, dear. He doesn't have time to wait for guests to come to breakfast." She shook her head like Charlie was being silly and then took off out the door.

Right. Because Charlie really cared about Monroe's stupid country.

She took her time getting ready, reveling in the fact that this was probably the one thing that Monroe couldn't control. The clothes that Madelyn had put out for her were much simpler than her dinner outfit. Dark brown pants and a plain green shirt. She pulled on a pair of black socks that she found on the self in the closet, also on the shelf were several pairs of underwear and bras identical to the ones she had been given last night. Hanging up, there were five or six pairs of pants. Black, grey, brown, and next to them were several different colored shirts. Some had long sleeves, some were simple t-shirts and there was even a sweater in the back corner.

A sweater. As in, for winter. Because yes, she was really going to be here that long.

A brand new pair of black boots sat on the floor of the closet. Charlie pulled them on, enjoying the feel of the new leather snug around her feet.

Deciding that she had put it off as long as she could, she knocked on the door and waited for Nevins to open it.

He leered at her, his eyes traveling down her body, making her shiver. "Ready for breakfast?" But he didn't wait for her to respond. "Great. Could you turn around and hold your arms out please?"

Charlie stared at him. "Excuse me?"

Nevins' grin grew even wider. "It's standard procedure, ma'am, we have to make sure your not carrying any weapons."

She glared at him, knowing that he was probably full of shit. But she did as he asked, regretting it as soon as she did. Nevins huffed approvingly as she stuck her arms out to her sides.

He started at her shoulders and ran his hands along the top of her arms, then moving to the underside he moved his hands past her armpits and down her sides. His fingers slowed ever so slightly as they past over the sides of her breasts.

Charlie stood completely still and held her breath, refusing to give him the pleasue of seeing her squirm.

Matheson's don't squirm.

His hands moved lower, running down her thighs all the way to her ankles on the front. Then moving to the back, he let his thumbs slide along the inside of her legs, past her knees and just below her butt.

Nevins stood just behind her, she could feel his ragged breathing in her ear. "Very nice, kitten." Then he grabbed her butt roughly in his hands, squeezing and pulling her even closer to him so she could feel the buldge in his pants against her back.

She yelped in pain and anguish, trying to escape his hold, she managed to separate their bodies, but he kept a tight hold on her upper arm, squeezing to the point that it made her eyes water.

"Now be nice, kitten, and I'll be nice to you." He leaned forward, his breath warm and disgusting on her face. "I'll be very nice."

Then, as abruptly as the assult began, it was over. He snapped back to attention, straight backed and head held high. "Let's go, you're already late."

He released her arm and let her follow him a half a step behind. Charlie's mind was spinning, she couldn't remember ever being this angry or afraid in her life. Being held against her will by Monroe, Aaron's life hanging in the balance, being assulted by not one, but two of the guards here. Her stomach was churning and she decided that if she managed to make it to breakfast without throwing up, then that would be her accomplishment for the day.

Nevins walked right past the door that led into the dining room and Charlie followed him slowly, unsure of where the hell he thought he was taking her. They rounded the corner and came to a stop in front of a set of white double doors. Opening the door, Nevins motioned for her to go inside.

It was a large room with high ceilings. Large buckets, like the ones the soldiers had used to carry in her bathwater, were stacked in front of a low table in the center of the room. The table was covered in various fruits and vegtables, fresh bread, and red meat, ready to be prepared. On the far wall there was a large fireplace with a pot hanging over the fire. There were also several old grills lined on the wall with fires burning in them. Cabinets and shelves filled with jars lined the walls.

It was by far the biggest kitchen Charlie had ever seen.

"Your late." The crisp, cold voice came from her far left. Looking over, she saw Monroe sitting in a little breakfast nook with Jeremy at his side. They were both staring at her, Monroe seemed bored and unimpressed, while Jeremy was begging her to 'sit the fuck down' with his eyes.

Charlie approached the table slowly, keeping her eyes locked on Monroe. "No one told me that breakfast was served at a specific time."

His eyes never wavered from her face. "For your future reference, breakfast starts at 7 am, lunch is at 12:30, and dinner is served at 6:30. I expect you to be on time and dressed properly for each occasion."

Properly dressed? On time? What was this, boot camp?

Considering that he hadn't mentioned her current state of dress, Charlie figured that she must have at least met that requirement. Which aggrivated her to no end.

"Well excuse me, Mr. President," she used his title with as much hatred as she could muster, "but my room doesn't even have a clock. So how the hell am I supposed to know whether or not I'm late?"

He seemed to consider that for a moment while he ate his last bite of toast. Gathering up a stak of papers from the table, he rose to leave. "The problem will be addressed shortly. In the future, no excuses will be accepted." He moved toward the door, stopping with his hand on the handle and looking at her. "Charlotte, I'm letting it slide just this once out of respect for Miles, but my role as President is not to be taken lightly. Do not mock my title."

He disappeared through the door and she turned to Jeremy with disgust etched on her face. "Did he just threaten me for not respecting his title?"

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders as he took another bite of oatmeal. "Yeah, you'll get used to it."

"I hope not."

He frowned at her and pointed to the seat across from where Monroe had just been sitting. "Look, I get that your pissed, but the attitude thing is only gonna make it worse. Just keep your head down and this will all be over before you know it."

Attitude? Head down? Has he lost his mind?

"Are you kidding me? I'm a PRISONER! I was nearly strangled to death during dinner last night, and you want me to keep my head down? I want to go home!" Her chest was heaving, all of the blocked out emotions from the past day trying to force their way to the surface. She should have mentioned the freaky guy standing outside her door all the time that assulted her before breakfast, too.

But she didn't.

Why?

Pride. You know, the whole being a Matheson thing and all that.

Aggrivated with Jeremy, herself, Miles, Monroe, and this whole situation she glared at him. "I know that you want me to play nice and make this easy on you, but honestly, I don't really give a shit if this is easy for _you_. I'm a little more concerned about me and my friends."

Jeremy frowned at her before turning back to his breakfast. "Guess what?" He was clearly trying to change the subject.

"What?" Even through all of her anger, curiosity managed to squeeze its way in.

"Last night, after I took you back to your room, I went back to the dining room and everyone else had gone, except for Bass and Strausser."

"So..."

"Bass told him that there's a restraining order against him. Strausser isn't allowed to get within fifty feet of you unless it's at dinner, or Bass himself is also in the room." Jeremy look downright giddy at the memory of the conversation, and while Charlie was glad, she didn't really understand why.

He seemed to notice her confusion and sighed in annoyance. "Don't you get it? Your off limits. No one is allowed to touch you. You should be happy."

Charlie smiled in spite of herself, but kept her mouth shut. She figured that the smile would have to be good enough.

Jeremy smiled gently and patted her arm. "I know this is hard, but you'd be surprised how much you and Bass actually have in common. Just give it some time, you'll see." He got up to leave, having finished with his breakfast already. "I'll try to come see you after lunch, alright? But I have a lot of work to do, so if I don't see you until dinner, please, just play nice." And with one last wave he left the spacious kitchen.

Charlie looked around the quiet room, then at the food in front of her. Fresh fruit, bread, jam, honey, and some scrambled eggs. She looked around the room quickly, checking to make sure that she was alone, before digging in. Meals back home had always been small and practical. Baking was time consuming, so bread had always been out of the question. A woman in the village that they lived in made it on occasion, but even then, everybody wanted it so it had been difficult to get any.

While she stuffed her face she wondered what her family was doing. She could picture Miles sitting in a tent somewhere, looking slightly out of place in that god awful uniform, eating an apple while he sharpened his sword. Danny, her mom, and Nora were probably already on the move for the day, headed for... wherever they were going. Aaron was most likely stuck in some deep, dark pit, just waiting for Charlie to slip up so Monroe could punish him.

When she had finally had her fill of pretty much everything she could get her hands on, she went to the double doors leading back out into the hallway. Nevins was there waiting, as expected, and they walked back to her bedroom in complete silence. He opened the door for her, but stopped her before she went through.

"I have to search you again in order to make sure you didn't steal anything that could be used as a weapon from the kitchen."

Charlie gritted her teeth, but turned around all the same. This wasn't the time to go pissing people off, she needed to get a better idea of what she was dealing with before she started trying to break the rules.

Thankfully, he didn't grab her like he had the first time. Yes, his hands lingered far too long under her breasts and put to much pressure in between her thighs, but at least he didn't rub himself up against her.

"Very good, kitten. You may go."

She hurried into the room and slammed the door behind her, leaning against it to take a deep breath.

Ok, so she survived breakfast. But hell, if every morning was going to be like this, there was no way she was going to make it to the end of the week, none the less a whole freaking year.

Charlie looked around her bedroom, wondering what the hell she was supposed to do with her time until lunch. The windows caught her attention and she moved to look outside. Her bedroom was located in a side wing of the building, so she had a perfect veiw of the front door and the soldiers guarding it.

Stationed at the double doors leading into Idependence Hall, were two men. One was a very large, bald man, who was currently leaning against the wall in apparent boredom. The other man was tall and skinny with bright red hair, basically, a ginger.

Down the walkway and on the sidewalk in front of the building, there were two guards standing in front of the fence gate. The first was a woman, she had dark hair and tan skin, she really reminded Charlie of Nora. The other was a plain looking guy with brown hair. Both of them were scanning the street with suspiscous eyes, as if they thought an attacker would come strolling down the street straight towards them.

Charlie couldn't help but chuckle. Those morons spent entire days standing outside as glorified door openers.

A strange ticking sound took her attention away from her fun at the window. She turned around to find a small clock sitting on her bedside table. She glared at it, knowing that Monroe had probably gone straight up to his office and ordered someone to put it in here.

Urg. What an asshole.

The rythmic ticking of the clock was quiet for sure, but in the silence of her bedroom it may as well have been a nuclear bomb. She turned back to the window, hoping to block it out by distracting herself with people watching. Which at this point, was the only thing she had to occupy her time.

As the long hours went by, the ticking continued, lolling to a quiet sound that merely sat in the back of her mind. Outside, things seemed equally dull. She had decided to name the guards outside, just to give herself something to do. The large man at the front doors was Jack, his ginger haired friend was George, the woman out at the gate was Jane, and her partner was John.

Yes, she could have been more inventive, but given the circumstances, she figured people should give her a fucking break.

People went in and out of the building constantly. Some would go in with messanger bags that looked full and then come out with them looking empty, others would go in empty handed and leave with papers or a small bundle in hand. Every hour or so, someone would ride up on a horse and run inside, only to come running back out minutes later and take off again.

When the clock on the table chimed to show that it was now noon, Charlie nearly had a heart attack. She growled at the clock, knowing that Monroe had set it to do that in order to prevent her from being late for lunch. Wondering how she had sat and stared out the window for four hours straight, she went into the bathroom to freshen up. Lunch may not start until 12:30, but if she got there early, it would keep Monroe from whining.

As she prepared to knock on the door for Nevins to let her out, she was surprised by the soft knock that came from the other side, and even more surprised when Monroe himself came into the room.

She eyed him warily, unsure of why he was there or what he wanted. Monroe however, look completely at ease, smiling at her and then looking around the room as if he was politely interested in the decor.

Unable to contain herself, she asked, "what are you doing here?"

But he merely smiled at her. "I thought I'd escort you to lunch, seeing as how it will be just the two of us."

He held out his arm to her, like he was perfect gentlemen escorting a woman around on a date. That thought made Charlie cringe, and she eyed him suspicously.

"Where's Jeremy?"

"Captain Baker does have a job to do, Charlotte. He can't spend all of his time trying to make sure you don't do something stupid." He looked at her knowingly, which suceeded in pissing her off. Monroe was being cordial, even if it was annoyingly so, and she wasn't sure how to deal with that.

But, when in doubt, go with sarcasm.

"Well I appreciate it, Mr. President, I might have gotten lost without you and all your watchdogs every five feet to show me where to go."

Oh, Miles would be proud.

But her sarcasm only earned her a soft chuckle. "So much like Miles... Come on Charlotte, we don't want our lunch to get cold. Madelyn will have a fit." He held out his arm again for her to take, but feeling daring all of a sudden, she ignored it and walked straight out the door, into the hallway.

Her shoulders tensed of their own free will, waiting for Monroe to get angry and say some stupid shit about her being rude, but he didn't. In fact, unless she was hearing things, she could have sworn that he actually laughed.

What an asshole.

Once they were seated for lunch, Madeyn came over to the table, busying herself with plates and glasses. Charlie realized that she wasn't even hungry. She had been looking forward to lunch because it meant getting out of that stuffy room, it hadn't really occured to her that she was now expected to eat more food.

Madelyn set a sandwich down in front of her, it was warm venison on a soft bun with some sort of dressing, it looked mouth wateringly good, but her stomach was so full from breakfast she thought she might explode if she ate it. But Madelyn was watching her carefully, as if to see what she thought of the food, so she took a decent sized bite and chewed it, savoring the taste.

"This is delicious, Madelyn." It really was.

The woman squealed with glee and clapped her hands togeter. "Oh I'm so glad you like it, I was worried you might not like the dressing, it's my homemade mayonnaise."

Charlie smiled and took another bite in spite of her protesting stomach. "Nope, it's perfect." She wasn't sure why she wanted to make the woman feel better so badly. Maybe it was because she had been so nice to her, or it might have just been because she was a sweet old lady. Either way, she seemed delighted that Charlie liked her food and trotted off happily into the hallway.

Charlie heaved a sigh of relief and set her sandwich down, thankful that she didn't have to eat anymore of it.

"That bad, huh?" Monroe's voice made her jump, he had been so quiet and she had been so intent on ignoring him, that she really had forgotten he was there. Now he was looking at her with a small smile on his face, it made him look... human.

"Is what that bad?"

"The sandwich." He pointed to her plate.

"Oh, no, I just ate a big breakfast so I'm not really hungry. I wasn't lying, it is really good."

Why was she even talking to him? Why did he even care if she didn't like it? He didn't seem to mind locking her in a room all day, why did a fucking sandwich matter?

Almost as if he could read her mind, he frowned and the mask of indifference appeared back on his face. "Eat your food, Charlotte. You wouldn't want it to go to waste." The mocking tone in his voice made her fists clench and she stopped to take a deep breath.

Aaron.

Miles.

Calm, Charlie. Calm.

She realeased the breath and met his steely gaze. He was observing her face, probably looking for any signs of an intended attack, and she found herself shifting uncomfortably while he scrutinized her. Eventually, he seemed satisfied with whatever he saw there and went back to his lunch. Eating quietly and only speaking to ask her to pass the salt.

Monroe's cordial manner was really getting on her nerves, and he knew it. It was most likely his plan to aggrivate her enough so that she would step over the line, and he could punish Aaron.

But two could play that game.

She handed him the salt with a sickly sweet smile on her face, and she swore, she saw his eye twitch in annoyance. He didn't ask her for anything else after that, and when he finished eating, he politely excused himself. Charlie watched him go, wondering if this was how the rest of her stay in Independence Hall was going to go.

If it was... this was really gonna suck.

Nevins once again subjected her to his 'search' when they returned to her room. She noticed that he hadn't done it when Monroe had come to get her for lunch, and decided that he was definately full of shit.

Protocol, my ass.

Charlie took up her post in front of the window again, having moved the armchair in front of it so she could sit down. She watched Jack and George for a while, they seemed more alert now in the afternoon sun. John and Jane were talking, she could tell just by John's body language that he was flirting with Jane, but she didn't seem all that interested. In fact, Charlie would have bet her crossbow that she had seen Jane peeking up the walkway towards George.

Gingers weren't really Charlie's thing, but hey, if that's what Jane liked, good for her.

She must have dozed off, because before she knew it, it was five o'clock. Disapointed, she realized that Jeremy had never come to see her after lunch. She really, really hoped he was going to be at dinner though. Handling Monroe at lunch hadn't been as bad as it could have been, but if dinner the previous day was to be any indication, Charlie needed someone who was on her side to be in the room.

Waiting for 6:30 felt like forever. She eventually dozed off again, but woke up with sweat on her forehead and a tight feeling around her neck. She touched the bruise on her skin and tried to think about anything other than Strausser and his hand around her neck. It was starting to give her anxiety.

As she prepared herself to knock on the door to go down to dinner, she prayed to watever god that existed to help her keep a level head. To keep Aaron safe, to keep her sane.

* * *

><p>AN I promise we will NOT be going through each and every day of Charlie's stay in the capital, I just wanted to get in a general idea of what her days are going to be like. Now we can get to the fun stuff. Finally. :) Please leave a review if you have a second!


	4. Chapter 4

**Day 7**

The past week had officially been the worst of Charlie's life. Throughout the week, her human interactions had been limited to meal times and Nevins' usual 'search' before she was allowed to leave the room or reenter it. During the week she had noticed that Nevins didn't dare submit her to the search with anyone else present, which meant that when Jeremy walked her back to her room after breakfast she was safe. But that was the only time she could count on not being groped. Monroe hadn't attempted to escort her anywhere after that first lunch together, apparently, he had noticed her dislike of the idea. As much as she hated to admit it, even just to herself, having Monroe politely escort her to the kitchens would have been ten times better than having Nevins fondling her breasts.

The disgusting creep still hadn't given up, in fact, as the days passed he had only gotten bolder. Cupping her breasts completely from behind and even slapping her butt as she walked in front of him. It made her sick to her stomach every time she thought about it.

But she still hadn't told anyone. Why? She wasn't sure, she actually asked herself that same damn question every time she felt his hands on her body.

The most likely reason? Her hard-headed, Matheson attitude wouldn't let her give Monroe the satisfaction of going to him with a problem.

Aside from Nevins and her obvious boredom, she hadn't had any other problems. Monroe had made Jeremy and Strausser trade seats at the dinner table, which meant that Strausser now sat across from her. It didn't really help her appetite, but at least she was out of his reach. Dinner itself had become the part of the day she dreaded most. During breakfast and lunch, Monroe usually ignored her, leaving her to eat in peace while he read his daily reports and only on occasion inquiring about whether or not her accommodations were acceptable.

Acceptable? Sure, if bars on your window and creepy guard dogs are something you're into.

Though she had learned not to say things like that, it made Monroe's pleasant silence become heavy, which in turn made her nervous, which in turn ruined the entire rest of her day.

She was particularly happy today, because it was Friday, which meant that Jeremy would be off tomorrow and he had promised to come see her and bring some things for her to do.

Charlie was currently sitting at the kitchen table by herself, having arrived twenty minutes early. Madelyn was bustling around the room, readying plates full of food when a soldier came in and set a stack of reports on the table in front of Monroe's empty seat.

No. Don't touch it.

Oh, who was she kidding, of course she was going to touch it.

Grabbing the stack, she began thumbing through the pages, catching phrases like; caused public disruption, disobeyed direct orders, and suspected of rebel activities. That last one caught her attention and she pulled the piece of paper out to read it.

It was about some guy in Delaware that had taken a crate of ammunition off of a militia wagon instead of taking the crate of supplies that he had paid for. The officer in charge had immediately arrested him, accusing him of planning to give the rebels the ammo to help them with their cause. The officer was recommending a death sentence.

Seriously? If he had paid for food and taken ammo it was probably just a mix-up, and they wanted to shoot him for it.

Charlie shook her head sadly at the report, that poor guy was probably just trying to get food in order to feed his family and now he was going to pay the ultimate price for it.

"Well if you think it's bad, then it's either the end of the world or a lost puppy." Charlie had been so immersed in the report that she hadn't heard Monroe approach. He sat down and looked at her calmly, he didn't look angry that she had taken the papers. Actually, the cursory glance he sent towards them gave her the impression that he couldn't have cared less.

Acting braver than she really felt, she set the stack down and slid it his way. "Some guy is going to be killed for something that probably wasn't even his fault." To her immense surprise Monroe looked at the paper carefully and began to read as Jeremy took his seat at the table.

While she and Jeremy chatted about the weather, though why she cared was lost on her - it's not like she was allowed to go outside, Monroe continued to read the report. In the middle of Jeremy's retelling of his 'amazing' work on the training field the day before, Monroe cut him off with a hand in the air and a questioning look in Charlie's direction.

"I don't see how this incident wasn't the man in questions fault." He wasn't mocking her. Monore seemed genuinely curious about her opinion, which made her wonder why he cared.

Why? Who gives a fuck, it's better than sitting in complete silence.

"Well..." Charlie took her time forming her response, "the supplies and the ammunition all go in the same type of crates, which are then loaded onto the wagons, right?" At Monroe's nod of conformation she continued on with a little more confidence. "Then whoever loaded the crates is the one to blame. Why didn't they mark what was in each one, or why didn't the militia check to make sure they were giving the man the correct crate. It's not his fault that your guys can't keep track of their stuff."

Jeremy was looking between the two of them silently, like he was afraid to get involved. But Charlie kept her eyes trained on Monroe, who had tilted his head and was looking at her like she was a particularly complicated puzzle.

"Thank you, Charlotte. I will take your observations into account when I make my final decision." Luckily, Monroe turned to his plate and began to eat, otherwise he would have seen Charlie's mouth hanging wide open in shock and Jeremy's stunned face. She and Jeremy shared a confuse look, but he merely shrugged his shoulder as if to say '_hell if I know'._

Monroe spent the rest of breakfast reading the other reports in silence while Jeremy filled her in on the gossip going around the capital.

Charlie loved when Jeremy walked her to her room after breakfast, it meant that Nevins couldn't touch her and he knew it. She knew it too, and today, she couldn't help but smirk at him as Jeremy opened to door for her and she passed by Nevins without so much as a poke. As the door shut behind her, she saw his eyes narrow menacingly, but she didn't think anything of it, she was too busy being happy about skating by him.

But she should have known better than to think that she would get away with it. When lunchtime came, he opened the door and immediately grabbed her, slamming her back against the wall next to the door.

"Having fun, kitten?" Nevins pressed himself flat against her, his mouth level with her eyes.

"Get off of me." Charlie tried to push him away from her, but his superior size made it impossible.

"God, you are such a fucking tease." He grabbed her breasts roughly in his hands, pulling and pinching and squeezing until her eyes watered. He was so distracted by her breasts that she managed to push him a few feet away, immediately taking off down the hallway to get away from him. She didn't make it but five feet before he grabbed her by the wrist an swung her around, pushing her face first into the nearest wall.

"I thought I told you to play nice." Nevins had her by the wrist still, with her arm twisted behind her back.

"Go to hell," she ground out.

But Nevins merely chuckled, squeezing her right wrist even harder, so much so that she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out in pain. He spoke low in her ear, "now next time, I'm not going to be so nice. Do you understand, kitten?" He twisted her wrist back into an even worse angle and she grunted in pain. "I asked you a question."

Why was this happening to her? What had she done to deserve any of this?

Charlie nodded. Not so much out of fear, but because she was pretty sure that if she didn't, Nevins was going to snap her wrist. He hummed delightedly and licked the shell of her ear before letting go. She tumbled sideways, breathing heavily and clutching her wrist, doing her damn best not to burst into tears.

Because she wasn't scared of him. Matheson's don't get scared.

She composed herself as best as she could on her way to the kitchen, ignoring the shooting pain in her wrist as she stepped through the door. Monroe was already seated, sipping a glass of iced tea. When Charlie sat down, she put her right hand down on her lap and reached for her glass with her left.

Big mistake.

Monroe immediately noticed, his eyes narrowed on her left hand and then went to her face, taking in her usually tan skin's, pale tone. "Is everything alright, Charlotte?"

She nodded imperceptibly, "of course, everything is fine."

Why was she still lying about it? Everything was not fine!

Damn Matheson's and their egotistical bullshit.

"What's wrong with your arm?" Charlie tried to feign innocence, but Monroe saw right through it. He jumped up from his seat and before Charlie could even think about moving away from him, he was at her side, snatching her hand off of her lap. She hissed in pain when he jostled her wrist and he surprisingly let go immediately.

Guess Monroe was full of surprises today.

"Show me your hand." It was a command. Not overly obnoxious or threatening, simply telling her that he meant business.

Slowly, so as not to cause herself more pain, Charlie lifted her arm for him to see. Her skin was an angry, dark red color, it would certainly be black and blue tomorrow. She couldn't bring herself to look at Monore's face, a strange sense of guilt forming in her stomach. Which was ridiculous because she hadn't done anything wrong.

Thankfully, Monroe made no effort to touch her again. He did however send one of the guards for the doctor as he sat back down in his seat. Charlie still couldn't look at him, so she took a sip of iced tea in order to give herself something to do.

"Tell me what happened." Another command, though this time there was an underlying tone of anger in his voice. She finally looked up at his face and found his features neatly arranged in his usual indifference. Except for his eyes, which usually seemed dull and lifeless, were blazing with such an intensity that Charlie felt little beads of sweat forming on her forehead. She looked away, she had to in order to think.

"Nevins," it came out as a whisper. But from the way his back straightened, she knew he had heard her.

"Were you trying to escape?"

Panic flooded through her, if he thought that she had tried to escape he would kill Aaron for sure. "No, I didn't, I swear. Nevins has been doing this since I got here. I swear, please don't hurt Aaron." She looked at Monroe with pleading eyes, begging him to believe her.

His face seemed to soften slightly and he put his hands out to shut her up. "Relax, Charlotte, your friend is safe." Charlie sighed with relief, feeling like the weight of the world had just been lifted off of her shoulders. "But what did you mean when you said he's 'been doing it since I got here'. Doing what exactly?"

Suddenly feeling awkward, Charlie searched for the words to describe Nevins' behavior. "He's been... 'searching' me... whenever I leave my room."

"Searching?"

She nodded and bit her lip. "Yeah, he said that it was protocol to search me for weapons, but... I mean, it's not like I keep razor blades in my bra." Charlie didn't say anything else, she didn't want to. But she figured that she had said enough for Monroe to be able to fill in the blanks.

She saw Monroe's hand clench around his glass right before he jumped up from the table, turning to another one of scariest looking guards in the room. He was easily six feet tall, and built with muscle from top to bottom. "When Charlotte is finished take her back to her room. Your are assigned to her detail until further notice." Without so much as a backward glance, Monroe left the room.

**Day 8**

The doctor had declared it a sprained wrist and had wrapped it gently for her. Madelyn had come to her room close to dinner time with a tray full of food, explaining that Monroe had excused her from dinner for the night.

Now it was Saturday morning, and since her body was getting used to eating on a schedule, her stomach was rumbling. Charlie was nervous about knocking on the door, her new guard dog was even scarier looking than the last one and she wasn't sure whether or not he was going to be any better than his predecessor.

Mentally preparing herself for the worst, Charlie knocked on the door. It swung open immediately to reveal a man in his mid-twenties with light brown hair and green eyes, dressed in a clean, crisp uniform with a smile on his face.

"Good morning, Miss Matheson." A little shocked by his seemingly non-threatening appearance, she gaped at him.

"Who are you?" Even her rude tone wasn't enough to wipe the smile off of his face.

"I am Private Chad Riley, President Monroe assigned me to your protective detail this morning, effective immediately. It's nice to meet you, ma'am." He stood with his hands clasped behind his back and his seemingly genuine smile still on his face. "Are you ready for breakfast, ma'am?" Riley motioned for her to make her way down the hall in front of him as he shut her bedroom door.

Charlie stepped out of his way, but didn't start towards the kitchens. Instead, she turned to her new guard and eyed him suspiciously. "Would you like to search me before we go?"

She was testing him. And he knew it.

"Oh course not, ma'am. I was given strict orders regarding your care."

When Riley didn't elaborate, she asked, "what kind of orders?"

"Physical contact with Miss Matheson is strictly forbidden, unless under extreme circumstances. Failure to comply will result in immediate discharge." Riley said all of this in one breath, like he had been forced to commit it to memory.

Charlie raised an eyebrow at him, "what sort of extreme circumstances?"

"One: if Miss Matheson attempts to escape, deadly force may be used. Two: if Miss Matheson attempts to harm any person of the household or visitors, deadly force may be used. Three: in the event that Miss Matheson's safety is in question, physical contact may be initiated to protect her at all costs." Once again, Riley said this all very quickly, with his smile firmly in place. Charlie merely gaped at him, at a loss for how exactly she was supposed to react to that.

"Would you like to go to breakfast now, ma'am?" His perfectly polite demeanor was strange, but Charlie quickly decided that it was a million times better than Nevins, so she smiled at her new guard and started walking down the hall. Riley followed her a few paces behind, not bothering to try and steer her, nor engaging in conversation.

When they arrived at the double door that led into the kitchen he opened the door for her with a big smile. "Enjoy your breakfast, Miss Matheson."

She couldn't help it. She muttered a thanks out of the corner of her mouth and slipped inside, still marveling at her sudden change in luck. As she approached the table, Monroe eyed the bandage wrapped around her wrist.

"Doctor Huber informed me of the damage that former Private Nevins caused." While Monroe's tone seemed formal, the look on his face was sincere. "I apologize, Charlotte. I chose Nevins for your detail myself, that was obviously a mistake. How do you feel about Private Riley?"

As he looked at her, Charlie realized that he was actually asking for her opinion. And for what seemed like the millionth time in the past two days, she wondered why on Earth he cared.

Does it really matter?

No. Just be grateful.

"He seems... nice." What the hell was she supposed to say? He's better than the maniac you hand picked the first time?

No. Eight days in Independence Hall had taught her that being a smart ass didn't get her anywhere but sent to her room.

Monroe seemed pleased enough by her answer and went back to his breakfast while he read his reports. Jeremy showed her the bag of things he had brought for them to do on his day off. A chess board, complete with all of the pieces, a deck of playing cards, and a pre-blackout board game called Mouse Trap. Charlie couldn't help the huge smile on her face, she had never played the game before, but the idea of having company for the day made her spirits soar.

They sat talking much longer than they usually did during breakfast, because Jeremy usually had to leave for work, and after a while Monroe got up to leave. He stopped just short of the door and came back to the table with a serious look on his face, Charlie worried if she was suddenly in trouble for something.

"I decided not to charge the man in Delaware. I thought you'd like to know." Monroe didn't give her a chance to respond, he disappeared out the door before she even fully understood what he had said. She turned to Jeremy with surprise on her face only to find him grinning with a smug look of satisfaction.

"What? Why are you making that face?" But Jeremy simply continued to smile as he rose from the table, bag of games in his hand.

"It's nothing, come on, I bet I can kick your ass in chess."

Charlie snorted, "you do know that I was raised by a scientist, a doctor, and a mathematician, right? I know how to play chess." They laughed together as they made their way back to her room.

But Charlie couldn't help but wonder what Jeremy had been so damn smiley about, or why the hell Monroe of all people had actually listened to what she had to say.

* * *

><p>AN First of all, I want to say thank you to everyone who has been reading this story, you guys are awsome! Second, thank you to all of my reviewers who are 100% amazing! Third, I hope you guys like this chapter, I know everyone has very vivid images of what they would like to be done to Nevins, we will get to that part later. :-) Leave me a review if you have a minute, I love hearing from you guys!


	5. Chapter 5

**Day 17**

Independence Hall was easily even more boring than Sylvania Estates had ever been. At least back home she had been allowed to go outside. Now, Charlie spent most of her time sitting in front of her window, watching the various soldiers that guarded the front entrance of the building.

She had come to the realization that Jane (yes, she made up fake names for them), the only female in the group, was now sleeping with George, the ginger haired guy that stood right outside the front door. John, who was Jane's partner down by the sidewalk, was totally in love with Jane and was so jealous of George that Charlie almost felt bad for him. And don't forget Jack, George's rather large partner, who couldn't care less about his co-workers love lives. In fact, Jack spent most of his time with his eyes half open while he leaned back against the wall.

It was pathetic. Charlie knew that. She had been reduced to watching _Days of our Lives: Militia Edition_, for entertainment.

Yes, Aaron had told her all about soap operas. Office gossip and sex, that's pretty much what was happening outside her window.

Plus the stray dog that Jane and John chased away every morning because he was trying to dig for scraps in the butcher's garbage can.

Inside the building, Monroe had allowed Jeremy to leave the deck of cards for her to use, but the board game and the chess board had been taken away. She figured Monroe didn't want her to be tempted to use any of the little pieces as weapons. Which she couldn't really blame him for because the little cross on top of the queen would have been great for stabbing someone in the neck.

So Charlie passed the time militia watching and playing solitaire. She had also started exercising in the mornings before breakfast after she had noticed that the pants Madelyn bought her were starting to feel a little tight. Apparently, eating three meals a day with little to no physical activity caused weight gain. Sit ups and push ups, plus she ran back and forth from one wall to the other of her bedroom, which was actually pretty far. Aside from wanting to fit into her clothes, Charlie wanted to stay fit so that on the off chance that she did manage to escape, she would actually be able to get away.

While Jeremy was her gateway to the real world, Private Riley, or Chad as he preferred, had quickly become her friend. After his first week on the job, he had relaxed a little, Charlie would ask him questions and he would answer with less than ten words. It was slow progress, but progress none the less.

But the real change hadn't come until four days ago. On their way back from dinner, she and Chad had moved out of Madelyn's way as she came down the hall with her trusty serving cart. As they moved, Chad's shoulder had accidentally brushed against hers, sending him into a fit of hysteria, apologizing over and over again while he begged her not to tell the President. Poor Chad had practically been in tears by the time Charlie managed to calm him down, telling him that she knew it was an accident and that she had no intention of telling Monroe.

Chad had thanked her twenty times as they continued on their way back to her room while he sniffed and wiped the tears from his eyes. Charlie couldn't help but think that he had completely overreacted. It was one little touch, no big deal. So why had he acted like the world was ending?

Of course, being the curious woman she was, coupled with her unending boredom, Charlie asked him about it before she entered her room.

And Chad told her. A lot.

The story of Chadwick Riley's life was horrifying. Charlie had thought that her life the past few months had been hard, well, Chad's life had always been hard.

He had been nine years old when the blackout happened. His mother, Mary, had been a heroin addict and a prostitute. Mary Riley had no idea who Chad's biological father was. Then, about a year before the blackout, she had another baby, a girl named Elanor, or Ellie as Chad called her. Chad, his mother, and his baby sister Ellie, had been living with his grandmother before the blackout. His mom would come and go as she pleased, and there were times when Chad wouldn't see his mother for weeks, only for her to show up half-naked and completely strung out.

This was the rare occasion when the blackout actually did some good. Drugs became scarce as people were more worried about surviving, and his mom came home. Mary had packed up her mother and two children, moving them away from the city, and then she met Dave. Dave had been an auto mechanic before the blackout, and quickly became the father Chad had always needed, Dave loved Mary's two children as if they were his own and took care of his new family as best he could.

Then Dave met Miles and Monroe.

By the time Chad was sixteen, his dad had become a member of the Monroe Militia and his mom and Granny had started a sewing shop out of the front room of their small house. Eight year old Ellie helped the woman because their family was too poor to send either of them to school, and seeing as how none of the adults were academics, Ellie had never learned how to read.

At sixteen, Chad had begged his dad to let him join the militia so that he could help feed their family, but Dave told him no. The man had seen battle, and he never wanted his son to have to see it. So Chad got a job as an apprentice at a blacksmiths shop in town. Not even three weeks into the job, Dave was killed in a battle at the Georgian border.

Mary went completely crazy after that. His mother would disappear for days and come back smelling like alcohol and sex. Chad suspected she went to Drexel's, who was a known drug dealer in the Republic.

When Chad mentioned Drexel, Charlie had to hold in her disgust so as to not interrupt the story.

Chad's work at the blacksmith's, combined with Granny's profits in the sewing shop was enough to keep the family of four going, they struggled everyday, and Chad admitted to her that he had gone hungry most nights so that Ellie and his grandma got enough to eat.

When he was twenty and Ellie was twelve, their mom left one day and never came back. Leaving his elderly grandmother to care for Ellie and keep up with the sewing shop while Chad worked from dawn until dusk to make sure they had enough to eat.

Chad had teared up by this point, and Charlie couldn't help but feel for the man. The world had been set upon his shoulders from such a young age, much like herself.

But unfortunately, he wasn't even finished with the story yet.

Two years ago, while he was working in town, bandits had attacked his home where his grandma and Ellie had been working on a dress for one of the wealthier women in town. The bandits had knocked his grandmother unconscious and proceeded to rape his thirteen year old sister. Chad had been taking a break outside when he saw smoke rising in the distance, coming from the direction of their house. In panic, he ran full out until he reached the house, finding it almost entirely engulfed in flames.

Chad had dragged his sister's half-naked, bloody body out of the house before pulling his still unconscious grandmother out as well. Ellie woke up screaming and crying, and he held her tightly in his arms while they watched their home burn to the ground. When Granny had finally come around, she nearly died of a heart attack when she realized what had happened.

With no place to live and half of the families income up in smoke, Chad had taken his family to the blacksmith shop, where his boss kindly let them stay in the one bedroom guest house in the backyard in exchange for work.

As the weeks passed, things had gotten a little better for them. Chad's boss was quite generous, giving him some money on top of letting them live in the guest house. They were saving all of the money so that they could afford to get a bigger place to live in when it happened.

Ellie missed her period.

His baby sister had been violated in the most gruesome way while he hadn't been there to protect her. And to make matters worse, they were about to have a permanent reminder of it.

Roughly eight months after the attack, fourteen year old Ellie gave birth to a healthy baby boy. Charlie couldn't help but feel warm and fuzzy inside while she watched Chad talk about his baby nephew, Tyler Chadwick Riley, with love and pride.

After two months of living with his grandmother, sister, and newborn nephew, Chad realized that his job in the blacksmith shop would never be enough. So he used all of their savings to get the girls and the baby into a small two bedroom apartment and, against his father's wishes, joined the militia.

That was how Chad, at twenty-four, ended up here, in Independence Hall. Any money he made was sent straight home to fifteen year old Ellie, who was trying to start up another sewing shop, which was difficult with a nine month old and Granny just hitting seventy.

By the time Chad had finished telling Charlie his story, she understood. He hadn't overreacted, when Monroe gave him the job he had been warned that no physical contact with her would be tolerated, and Chad needed this job. For his family.

It's amazing what people will do for the ones they love, isn't it?

Since that night she and Chad had reached an unspoken understanding. No matter how wrong Chad knew it was to keep her prisoner, he was going to do his job, no matter what. And while knowing that she wasn't going to be able to turn him to her side was aggravating, Charlie wouldn't push him. If the situation were reversed, she liked to think that he would feel the same way.

Now she and Chad were friends. He told her all about the letters he got from Ellie and she told him all about Miles, Danny, Aaron, Nora, and her mom. He wasn't allowed to open her door, except at meal times, so they would each sit on either side of the door and talk in muffled voices to pass the time.

Chad was just as bored as she was after all, he wasn't allowed to go anywhere either.

Kindred spirits and all that.

Life goes on.

The two of them made their way down to the dining room for dinner. Charlie left her boots outside the door and went inside. She had learned that Monroe arrived for dinner at exactly 6:30 and in order to be considered on time, she had to be in her seat before he entered the room.

It was five minutes until 6:30, and Charlie was sitting in her usual seat on Monroe's right side with Jeremy's empty seat next to her. Strausser's seat sat empty across from her as well which left her sitting in the presence of Neville. She could feel him openly staring at her, but she ignored him by staring out the window, whose view led out into the courtyard. Those five minutes passed so slowly that Charlie considered going to get Monroe herself just so that she could get dinner over with.

"Good evening gentlemen, Charlotte." As usual, Monroe made a point to make sure everyone noticed that she was in the room. Charlie had long since gotten bored of his stupid game and ignored him.

Monroe sat down and the chatter about the day's events began. Charlie tuned them all out while she ate her spaghetti, which she had never had before, and let her mind wander. The changing sound of Monroe's voice finally pulled her out of her own head. His usual low, but sharp tone (his 'presidential' voice) had been replaced by a softer, more genuine sound.

"Tell me Tom, how is your wife handling it?"

Huh? Handling what?

"Julia is a very strong woman, Mr. President, she's doing as well as can be expected with this sort of loss. Thank you for asking." Neville's fake smile shown in Monroe's direction.

"Of course, I understand." Monroe's voice sounded grave and he hung his head slightly, making Charlie wonder what the hell they were talking about.

They were acting like someone had died...

Oh God. Jason.

The realization sent Charlie's head straight in Neville's direction, the man noticed her sudden interest and turned her way. "Is something wrong, Miss Matheson?"

Charlie's mouth opened and closed like a fish. She had no idea what to say to a man that she hated, but had just lost his son. So rather than say something to cause trouble, she kept her mouth shut.

"I know that the pain will never really go away Tom, but if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask." The sincerity in Monroe's voice was really throwing her off. The number of children he had killed, and yet here he was, consoling someone that lost a child.

"It's been three weeks, sir, I assure you, my son's death won't interfere with my duties."

Three weeks? Wait a minute... Charlie had only been in Philadelphia for seventeen days, which meant that Jason died before she got here.

But that was impossible, because Jason was the one that warned the rebels about the attack the militia was planning. Charlie had spoken to him herself early that morning.

Neville was lying.

Why, though?

To protect Jason? Doubtful. From the way Jason had talked about his father, Charlie got the impression that the man only cared about himself.

Jason wasn't dead. He defected, and Neville was covering it up so Monroe wouldn't kill him.

Finally! Something she could use to her advantage. Charlie was tempted to out Neville right there at dinner, but she knew she needed to keep it a secret for now. First, she needed to make sure she was right without tipping Monroe off. And Second, she had to be patient and wait for the right moment to tell, so that it worked in her favor.

But how was she going to figure out whether or not she was right?

Charlie spent the rest of dinner in silence, contemplating the best way to go about getting the information she needed. Now she usually excused herself after dessert, but tonight, she was planing on sticking around so she could try and talk to Neville without Monroe in the room.

She ate her lemon tart slowly, painfully slow, so she would have an excuse to remain in the room. They had been siting there for what felt like hours when Monroe finally dismissed the men and got up to leave himself. Charlie hung back as Monroe hurried from the room, and she smiled in triumph.

At least something went the way she wanted it too.

Charlie approached Neville from behind as he joined the line to leave the dining room. They were the last two in line.

"I'm sorry about Jason." She didn't even bother pretending like she believed that he was actually dead.

Neville turned to face her and narrowed his eyes before plastering a smile in his ugly face. "Thank you, Miss Matheson. My son was rather fond of you." He was unable to keep the accusatory tone from his voice.

Charlie smirked up at him and lowered her voice. "He _was_? Or did you mean, _is_?" Neville's eyes bulged for a fraction of a second before going back to their normal state. But that was all she needed.

She was right. Jason was alive.

Barely containing her triumphant smile, Charlie hurried from the room, gabbed her boots, and took off down the hallway barefoot with Chad following behind. She didn't even wait for him to open her door, she rushed in and slammed it shut, still grinning like an idiot for having finally gotten some good news.

**Day 18**

Charlie should have known that her success would be short lived. The very next day, right after lunch, Chad knocked her bedroom door and informed her that she had a visitor. A beautiful women with dark skin, brown hair, and green eyes, dressed in a fancy dress and heels with a bag over her shoulder was shown into her room.

"Hello Miss Matheson, I am Julia Neville. I believe you know my husband, Major Tom Neville." Julia held out her hand for Charlie to shake and she took it.

Her father hadn't raised a caveman after all.

Julia smiled a sickly sweet smile that made Charlie's nose curl. The woman seemed oblivious to the effect she was having on her though.

"Tom told me about how close you and Jason were and how upset you were to find out about his death. I wanted to thank you, so I brought you a gift." She reached into her bag and pulled out a small book with a leather cover and a silver, pre-blackout ink pen. "It's a journal," Charlie took the things from her hands, "I thought you might like something to help keep your thoughts in order. Oh and don't worry, the President approved the pen before I came in." Charlie wanted to ask Julia if she knew that Jason wasn't dead, but didn't get the chance because the woman left as soon as the 'gift' was in her hands.

She looked down at the book and rolled her eyes. Neville had probably gone straight home the night before and told his wife what had happened at dinner. Julia knew that Jason was alive, and this journal was probably them trying to buy her silence.

Yeah right, it would take more than a stupid book to keep Charlie's mouth shut. She tossed the book onto her bed as she turned to bathroom to wash up, but was distracted by the slip of paper that fell out of the journal and fluttered to the ground.

Frowning, Charlie picked up the folded piece of paper. It was a note.

_Charlie,_

_Friday night. Exactly 9:15 pm. Be ready. Don't forget your pen._

_See you soon,_

_Jason_

Charlie's heart was thundering in her chest. Friday night? That was tomorrow.

What did he mean 'be ready'?

What about the pen?

She picked up the silver pen and started to examine it. It looked just like every other pen Charlie had ever seen. Nothing special. Until she unscrewed the casing where the ink should have been held.

Instead of ink, there was a small, pointy dagger.

Oh shit.

* * *

><p>AN This chapter is mostly about Chad and I'm sorry if you don't like that, but once I got going, I couldn't stop! Plus, he's going to be a really important person to Charlie as the story progresses. There isn't really any Charloe interaction in this chapter, but the next one is going to be ALL Charloe, so stick with me! Review if you've got a sec! :-)


	6. Chapter 6

**Day 19**

**6:55 am**

After receiving her note from Jason, Charlie's mind had gone into complete overdrive. She was sure that Jason was alive, but the real question was, was the note really from him? It was entirely possible that Barbie-Neville and her husband were planning on helping her escape just so they could kill her, or they were going to get her caught so Monroe would kill her. Either way, she ended up dead.

Which meant that escaping wasn't an option.

So what should she do? The note said Friday night at 9:15, that was tonight. Charlie figured she could do nothing, and then when whoever was coming showed up, just refuse to leave.

But that was the other problem.

What if Monroe found out about it, and believed that she was trying to escape? He'd kill her for sure, then kill Aaron, and to top it off that, he'd have whoever was with Miles kill him too.

Two options; One, say nothing and pray that Monroe wouldn't find out that she had know about the 'escape attempt' before hand. Or two, tell Monroe, pray that he believed her, and if needed, beg him not to kill her and her friends.

Either way, she was fucked.

It was with all of those possibilities on her mind that Charlie had been up most of the night pacing in her room. Which was the reason why she was running late to breakfast this morning. She entered the kitchen and looked at the clock on the wall, 6:58.

"Your late, Charlotte."

Charlie approached the table slowly, avoiding Monroe's gaze. "I thought breakfast didn't start until seven."

His eyebrows rose slightly. "It does. I was merely pointing out that you're usually the first one up for breakfast, I've actually gotten used to you reading my reports for me. Makes it so I don't have to."

Charlie slid into her seat and finally looked over at him. "Well I'm sorry, Mr. President, I guess you'll just have to do your own job today." It had come out a little harsher than she had intended, but Monroe ignored her attitude in favor of studying her face.

"Is something wrong, Charlotte?"

Charlie stared at him. She hadn't even been in the room for five minutes and he had already picked up on the fact that, yes, something was very wrong.

Which brought up yet another problem. She knew she needed to tell Monroe about the note and the dagger, because the consequences otherwise would be to severe to risk. The problem was, how was she going to tell him? If she just came out and said it, he might not believe her, especially considering that he still thought Jason was dead.

"Nothing, I'm fine." Charlie had always been a terrible liar, but she hoped, just this once, that it was enough to get away with it. Monroe however, didn't look all that convinced. "I'm fine, I just didn't sleep well last night. That's why I didn't get here early." Then, hoping to change the subject, she asked, "where's Jeremy?"

But Monroe completely ignored her question in favor of his own. "Didn't sleep well... is everything alright? Are you not feeling well? Would you like me to call for Dr. Huber?"

For a man that killed people, like every other day, he was oddly caring.

It was kind of annoying.

"No, that's really unnecessary. I had a hard time sleeping, that's all." She looked him directly in the eye, his steely blue gaze studying her, hoping to convey some degree of sincerity so he would believe her.

Whether or not he did, she wasn't sure, but Monroe let the subject drop and answered her question. "I sent Jeremy to Harrisburg to take care of a few things, he should be back in two weeks, no more than three."

Charlie's heart sunk. She had been thinking that if Monroe didn't believe her about the note that Jeremy would at least have her back.

Guess not.

"Relax, Charlotte," Monroe's voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Your girlfriend will be back soon and then you guys can go back to braiding each other's hair."

Charlie frowned at him. "You know, Jeremy is the only person here that actually likes you, maybe you should try being a little nicer to people who are supposed to be your friends."

She had been expecting Monroe to glare at her, or even roll his eyes in his usual condescending way, so she wasn't prepared for it when he bowed his head and poked at the eggs on his plate. "I don't have any friends left, Charlotte. I thought you would've noticed that by now."

She should have laughed at him. She wanted to, really she did, but the bitter tone in his voice made it hard. Even after everything Monroe had done to her family, she couldn't find it in herself to laugh at someone looking so dejected.

Never kick a man when he's down, right?

Instead of responding, Charlie went back to her breakfast and tried to think of the best way to tell Monroe about the note, and possible escape attempt to follow. But this wasn't the right time. She knew he would be angry with himself for revealing so much to her as soon as he realized what he'd said, plus, it was still early in the morning. Giving Monroe bad news, like an escape attempt, in the morning was a bad idea. Her chances of survival would be best at lunchtime. They always ate lunch together, just the two of them, and he seemed to reserve the best of his attitude for the occasion.

Or it could just be that he was awake by that point.

Either way, lunch was her best bet.

They finished breakfast in a somewhat awkward silence, with Monroe refusing to look at her. As Charlie finished her eggs she grudgingly admitted to herself that reading Monroe's reports, while not very entertaining, at least gave her something to think about. Now however, she was stuck in her own head, contemplating all of the different ways telling Monroe about Jason's note could go wrong. And wondering which of the objects on the table would be her best choice as a weapon for defense.

If worst came to worst, she decided that she could always throw salt in his eyes to distract him and then stab him with her fork. But even if she managed to kill him, she'd still have to make a run for it and Aaron would still be in danger.

Suffice to say, she really hoped that Monroe believed her.

**8:40 am**

Charlie spent the morning pacing in her bedroom, occasionally stopping to look out the window in order to see militia guard Jack nearly topple over because he fell asleep leaning against the wall while he was supposed to be on duty. Chuckling, she shook her head and watched as guards John and Jane chased away the stray dog from the butcher shop. Again.

Poor thing. He just wanted something to eat.

After that, she did her best to distract herself by playing solitaire, doing some more militia watching, playing more solitaire, etc.

You get the picture.

She wondered why Monroe had sent Jeremy to Harrisburg. He said it was 'to take care of a few things'. Charlie couldn't decide whether or not she thought that might be Monroe-speak for 'he went to kill a bunch of people for me', or if he really had sent Jeremy all the way to Harrisburg just to run some errands.

Unfortunately, the first option seemed the most likely.

Charlie knew that shouldn't really bother her, but she had come to like Jeremy, and the idea of him running off to kill people just because Monroe said so made her fists clench. So she stopped thinking about it.

Now that she had made up her mind to break the bad news at lunch, time couldn't possibly have moved any slower. Charlie was resting in her armchair, propped up with a cup of hot tea that Madelyn had brought in for her. She looked out the window, lost in her own thoughts. She wondered what Miles was doing. Almost three weeks into the trip to California, traveling at least 15 miles a day (she figured it would be slow going with all the extra soldiers and stuff), they had to be at least to Pittsburgh by now. With any luck Nora would have realized something was wrong and taken Danny and her mother far away from here, to Georgia or Texas so that they would be far from harm. Poor Aaron, Charlie had given up asking where he was being kept or whether or not he was alright, every time she did, Monroe got angry and sent her to her room.

**12:20 pm**

When it was finally tie for lunch, she tucked Jason's note into her pants pocket, but opted to leave the pen sitting on the vanity in her bedroom. She didn't want Monroe to misunderstand her bringing it to show it to him, for an assassination attempt.

Charlie had grown fairly comfortable in Independence Hall, especially with Nevins gone, but on her way to the kitchen she found herself wringing her hands and biting worriedly at her bottom lip. Chad seemed to sense that something was off, and looked like he was going to ask her if she was alright, but she went through the door of the kitchen before he had the chance.

Monroe was sitting down in his seat as she came into the room. He completely ignored her. At first she couldn't figure out why he would be ignoring her, the man seemed to get a lot of satisfaction out of forcing her talk to him, but then she remembered their not-so-nice conversation this morning. Charlie could have slapped herself. She had held off on telling him until lunch in order to make sure he would be in a good mood, but then she had gone and upset him and now he was still acting like a kid that got picked over for teams on the playground.

They each took a bite of their potato soup while the awkward silence around them thickened. Charlie decided that just because he was going to act like a child didn't mean that she had to, so she broke the silence softly. "How was your morning?"

Monroe couldn't hide the surprise that crossed over his face. "Why do you care?" And if his voice sounded a little suspicious, well, that was probably because they both knew she didn't care in the slightest.

Rather than trying to convince him that she did, Charlie shrugged and took another bite. "I don't. Just trying to make conversation. I don't know about you, but spending the next two weeks in silence just because Jeremy's gone doesn't sound like fun."

He raised an eyebrow at her, but gave no other outward signs of opposal. "It was fine."

Nodding awkwardly, she asked, "what did you do?"

Monroe chuckled, a low sound that seemed to vibrate from his chest, down his arms, and all the way into the table so that she could feel it in her fingertips. "I read my reports. Someone suggested I do my own job for a change."

A small smile, without her permission of course, broke out across her face, and she could have sworn that she saw the corner of Monroe's lips twitch as well. And just like that, they were back to their normal dynamic. Charlie pretended that she was merely in Philadelphia on vacation, staying at a beautiful inn, that just happened to have some overbearing security guards while Monroe pretended that Charlie really was his guest instead of being a prisoner/hostage.

With things back to their comfortable silence, it was time to tell Monroe about Jason's rescue attempt. "There's somethin-"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Mr. President, but you need to come see this." Charlie had been interrupted by none other than Jane, the female militia soldier whose post was on the front lawn, who looked slightly terrified.

"I'm having my lunch, Lieutenant." Monroe's voice was icy cold.

"I know, sir, it's just that, well..." The poor girl was looking more and more scared by the second.

"Spit it out, I haven't got all day."

"There's a man outside that wants to see you."

Monroe glared at her. "Are you kidding me, you came to interrupt-"

"Sir, trust me, you're going to want to see this." The sincerity in her voice was hard to miss, even for Monroe.

He quickly stood from the table and followed Lieutenant Jane out the door. Charlie stared after them, knowing better than to try and follow, Monroe would notice if she was doing something she wasn't supposed to.

But now what? She hadn't even gotten to show him Jason's note, and she had to tell him before 9:15, preferably even before dinner. So Charlie waited, for about an hour longer than lunch would usually take, but Monroe didn't come back to finish his food, and she was surprised that Madelyn hadn't even come in to clean up.

Realizing that sitting there was a waste of her time, Charlie went back to her room. Chad asked her why she had been in the kitchen for so long but she waved him off, saying something about wanting to spend time in a room that wasn't her bedroom. She went to her window to look and see if Jane was back in her usual spot. There she was, right next to John.

But then why didn't Monroe come back to lunch? And when the hell was she supposed to show him the note now? She sighed, plopping down on her bed and deciding that she would just have to catch him at dinner. But before dinner, she needed a nap.

**6:15 pm**

Dressed in fitted black pants and a red blouse with flowing sleeves, Charlie made her way down to dinner. She figured that Monroe might take the news better if she appeared to be conforming to all of his stupid rules, so she had donned the shirt with the hopes that he would deem it 'appropriate'.

It had actually taken quite a while to decide. Madelyn seemed to really enjoy shopping, so over the past few weeks Charlie's wardrobe had grown to three times what it was when she arrived. She had more clothes now then she had ever had in her life. More pants and t-shirts and lots of pretty blouses for dinner, the woman had even bought a dress and put it in the closet, telling Charlie that she didn't have to wear it right now, but that it would be nice to have it just in case.

Just in case what?

But again, she kept Jeremy's warning in mind and simply smiled to keep her happy.

Entering the dining room, her eyes bulged when he saw Neville sitting in Monroe's usual seat. Charlie approach the table cautiously, but with her head held high. She sat down in her chair and looked over at him expectantly. He raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing around his lips. "Can I help you, Miss Matheson."

The sickly sweet way he addressed her made her want to strangle him. "I don't think Monroe would like you sitting in his chair." She smiled triumphantly when a small flicker of fear crossed his face.

"Well I wouldn't worry about it. The President has asked me to inform everyone that he isn't feeling well, so he won't be joining us tonight."

What?!

Why was it that whenever she wanted nothing more than to never see Monroe's stupid face again, he always made a point to be around every corner. But as soon as she needed to talk to him, he couldn't be bothered with her.

What the hell was she supposed to do now?

Looking back at Neville, she asked, "what's wrong with him?"

Neville let his surprise from her question show. "I wasn't aware that you cared so much, Miss Matheson. Though I guess I shouldn't be surprised, you're just like Miles." Those last few words left a disapproving look on his face, making Charlie's already bubbling anger, flood to the surface.

"Well I'd rather be like Miles than be stuck being like you. Even your own son hates you." His eyes narrowed maliciously, but rather than letting him threaten her, she beat him to it. "Careful, Tom. I would hate to have to show Monroe the gift your wife gave me."

She watched as he barely restrained himself from reaching out and wrapping his hands around her neck. Smiling in triumph, she proceeded to ignore both Neville and Strausser for the remainder of dinner. Though her victory over him started to loose its charm after she realized that she still hadn't spoken Monroe. As she pulled her boots back on in the hallway, she contemplated her options, which there really only was one option left.

Go to Monroe's office and tell him the truth.

Only problem... she had no idea where his office was.

"Chad, I need you to take me to see Monroe."

Chad looked at her like she had completely lost her mind. "I can't. The President isn't seeing anyone else today, and even if he was, my orders are to take you to and from your meals. No place else, no exceptions."

Charlie rolled her eyes at him, she hadn't been expecting him to say no. "Chad, it's really important, I need to talk to him."

Sighing, he asked, "can't it wait until morning? I really am not supposed to take you there."

With her nervous energy already on the maximum setting, her anger easily solved both of their problems. "How about I make it easy for you then. Take me to Monroe, right now, or I'm going to tell him that you came into my room and... touched me." While she may have finished rather lamely, it was obvious by Chad's terrified look that her threat had worked.

"Fine," he said, clearly surprised by the lengths she was willing to go to. "Right this way, Miss Matheson." Chad directed her down the hallway and Charlie had to push down the apology threatening to escape her lips. If she lived through the night, she'd apologize tomorrow.

**7:50 pm**

Chad headed down the hallway in the direction of her bedroom, but instead of turning left at the end of the hall, which was the only other way they could have gone, he opened the door directly across from them which she had always assumed led to another bedroom or an office. Charlie was surprised as she went through it and realized that the door led into another hallway. She turned her head from left to right, taking in the short corridor that turned sharply to the right and ended at another door. At her questioning look, Chad finally took pity on her and explained as they went through the door and started down a long hallway.

"Independence Hall was a public building before the blackout, people could come and take tours to see what the building looked like on the inside. When Matheson and Monroe started using it as their headquarters, they were worried that people would remember the layout and be able to use that against them. So, they demolished some of the rooms and turned them into hallways, and vice versa." Chad pointed to an ordinary looking wall that seemed as though it had always been there. "They put that wall in to block off a hallway, your bedroom is right on the other side."

They fell silent as they continued to walk. Militia soldiers were standing guard at various spots along the wall and Charlie had to restrain herself from running out into the night when they passed the front doors. Through the glass, she could see Jack snoozing against the wall and George making lovey-dovey eyes at Jane. At the end of the long hallway, their only option was to turn left, and there at the end, Charlie saw four guards, two on each side of a set of double doors.

That had to be Monroe's office.

**8:05 pm**

Chad stepped up to the men guarding the doors and saluted them before saying, "Miss Matheson needs to speak to the President."

Three of the guards remained stoic and calm, but the one to the right of the door eyed her up and down with a smirk. "Well Miss Matheson is going to have to come back later, the President isn't seeing anyone right now."

Fear pulled at Charlie's chest. What if they wouldn't let her see him? If she didn't get to talk to Monroe in the next hour, she was as good as dead.

"It's important. Trust me, Monroe will be happy that you let me in when he hears what I have to say." The guards all looked at her, the one who had been talking was shaking his head.

"No. The President said no visitors, those were my orders."

Fuck your stupid orders!

Charlie took a deep breath, tyring to keep her desperation at bay. "You don't understand, I-"

"I don't care. No one is getting in this office tonight. Private, I suggest you take your prisoner back to her room." The man looked pointedly at Chad who quickly nodded. He gave her an apologetic look, gesturing for her to move back the way they had come, but she had come to talk to Monroe and she wasn't leaving until she did.

Charlie started to turn around, acting like she was going back to her room, and then ran at Monroe's office door, banging on it with her fists and yelling, "Monroe! Get your ass out-" But wherever she had been prepared to demand he take his ass to, no one heard, because one of the guards had lifted her bodily from the ground and pulled her away from the wood, shocking her into a momentary silence.

"Get your hands off of me." Charlie pulled at the arms wrapped tightly around her waist, but when they didn't budge she tried reaching behind her head to scratch at the guys face. He yelped in pain as one of her nails scratched across his eye and he dropped her on the floor, she caught her balance and prepared to make another attempt at Monroe's door only to have to firm hands on her shoulders pull her back.

Chad pulled on her a little harder, pleading with her in a low voice so that the others wouldn't hear. "Come on, Charlie, you can see him tomorrow. It's not that big of a deal."

No big deal? Her family was about to be in some serious trouble, not that Chad knew that, she had to protect them. Suddenly, Charlie remembered Chad telling her how useless he had felt being unable to protect his little sister Ellie from the bandits that had attacked her, and she got an idea.

"Help! Help!" Screaming at the top of her lungs, Charlie found herself praying that Monroe was still at least partly human. "Please, help me!"

She also tried to ignore the fact that she was currently yelling for help and hoping that Monroe would come 'save' her.

Chad grabbed her shoulders roughly and turned her to face him. "What the hell are you-"

BANG!

Everyone in the hallway froze as Monroe's office door flew open, bouncing off of the wall with a bang. Monroe was out of the room and at Chad's throat with a sword before any of them had even registered he had exited the room. Charlie stood rooted to the spot while Chad's grip on her shoulders had tightened out of fear of the man who currently had a blade across the skin of his neck. Monroe's whole body was tensed, his breathing was heavy and his eyes were on fire.

"Let her go." It was a simple command and Chad hastened to obey, dropping his hands from Charlie's shoulders and retreating back several steps. Monroe turned to Chad with his weapon raised and Charlie almost realized too late what he was planning to do.

"No, no, no, wait," she reached out and laid a hand on Monroe's shoulder, feeling his muscles through the thin white shirt he was wearing. "He didn't hurt me," Monroe turned to look at her out of the corner of his eye, "I'll explain everything, just don't hurt him." Charlie watched most of the rage leave his face to be replaced by curiosity. He turned to face her fully, eyeing her up and down as if he were checking for injuries before gesturing for her to enter his office.

Well, here goes nothing.

* * *

><p>AN I know that I promised you lots of Charlie and Monroe in this one but I hadn't really anticipated all of the different things that had to happen in this chapter before we even made it to his office. So I apologize and assure you that the next chapter will pick up right here. :-) Thank you for for reading and leave me a review if you have a minute, I love the feedback.


	7. Chapter 7

**Day 19 continued**

**8:15 pm**

Charlie entered Monroe's office ahead of him, shuffling her feet awkwardly as she looked around the room checking for exits in case things went south. There were no other doors in the room, just windows, two on the far wall and two on the wall to her left. She walked over to the windows, pretending to examine the outside while Monroe ordered the soldiers outside the door not to let anyone else near the office.

As Monroe stepped fully into the room, she watched him slide the sword he had held at Chad's throat back into his belt. She also noticed several other things. He wasn't wearing his uniform jacket and the white t-shirt he was wearing had a stain on the front, it looked like he had spilled tea on himself. His hair, which was usually slicked down on his head, was standing up in odd places, like he had run his fingers through it too many times. But the biggest thing she noticed, was the anger rippling off of him in waves. Tensed shoulders, forehead crinkled, and his lips pulled in a tight line.

Something was wrong.

Nineteen days of observing Monroe, and Charlie knew everything from the way he sipped his morning coffee when he was in a good mood to how he gulped it down when he wasn't. Or the way he bit the inside of his cheek when Madelyn made anything with cabbage in it, but was for some reason to polite to tell her he hated cabbage. Or even the way his jaw ticked when anyone called her by her last name.

Charlie figured that was why he insisted on calling her Charlotte. It meant he didn't have to think about Miles.

Basically, she had become an expert in reading the little things in Monroe's behavior that he liked to try and hide. But these weren't little things.

Something was very wrong.

Charlie watched him go to his desk chair and pick up his jacket, throwing on to try and make himself seem more put together.

She wasn't buying it.

"What's wrong?"

Angry eyes turned her way and she had to take a step back. Up until that moment she had believed that Monroe had been no more than the political figure head of the Republic, while Miles had gone around doing all of the dirty work.

Obviously, she had been wrong.

The look Monroe was giving her was nothing short of 'I'd shoot you, but I'm not done with you yet', and it terrified her. He advanced on her, forcing her to back against the wall next to the window, but he stopped just in front of her, his face a mere two inches from hers.

" 'What's wrong?' " He repeated, "what is wrong, Charlotte, is that I asked not to be disturbed, and yet you decided to come to my office in order to fake your own attack." His breathing was heavy, "now you said you would explain, you have fifteen seconds to convince me not to kill your fat-fuck little friend."

Shit.

Charlie found herself at a complete loss for words. Monroe asked why she was there, but for some reason she couldn't seem to remember.

"Ten seconds."

Kicking her brain into gear, Charlie pushed her fear aside and with fumbling fingers pulled Jason's note out of her pocket. Monroe eyed the scrap of paper warily, but took it none the less when she offered it to him. She watched his eyes scan the short note while he took a step back from her, she stayed where she was, plastered against the wall.

It was a short note, so when nearly a full minute had passed and he still hadn't even looked away from the words, Charlie tentatively opened her mouth. "Please don't hurt Aaron."

Monroe's eyes immediately found hers, ignoring her plea, he advanced on her again. "What is this, is this a joke to you? You think that dead children is funny, so you wrote this and thought you'd show it to me?"

"No, I didn't write that! It was giv-"

"Jason Neville is dead, so _he _sure as hell didn't write it."

Fuck, he thought she was lying, he thought she made the whole thing up. He was dangerously close now, his body hovering less than an inch away, his blue eyes dark with rage.

Softly, Charlie said, "he's not dead." Silence followed her statement, Monroe's eyes became a blur, tyring to decipher her face and catch her in a lie. Taking advantage of his momentary silence, she whispered, "you said that you would let me explain, just give me two minutes... please."

Something in her voice or her face must have convinced him, because Monroe suddenly backed off, retreating to the other side of the room and standing with his back against the opposite wall, staring at her. If Charlie hadn't been so busy worrying for her life, she might have wondered why he seemed so intent on putting so much distance between them, but she was busy, so...

"I'm listening, Charlotte."

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Charlie realized she had been so worried about _when_ she was going to tell him, that she hadn't even thought about _what_ she would say.

Well, better start from the beginning.

"When Neville's wife came to visit me, she brought me a journal and a pen."

Monroe interrupted, "yes, Charlotte, I'm aware. I am the one that gave her clearance to see you, after all."

His arrogance grated on her nerves and she snapped back, "you said you would let me explain, so why don't you let me." Not waiting for him to reply, she continued, "after she left, I found that note inside the journal."

"You claim that the Neville's son is alive. I don't see how Julia, supposedly, slipping you this note proves that."

Even with so much on the line, Charlie found herself wanting to slap that stupid smirk off of his face. "When did he die?"

Monroe raised his eyebrows at the question. "Excuse me?"

"You claim that Jason is dead. I want you to tell me when he died."

He studied her carefully for a moment before going to his desk and rifling through a stack of papers. Eventually, he found the one he was looking for and read off, "Lieutenant Jason Neville, killed in action on 23 June 2027. What does that have to do with anything?"

Ignoring his question, Charlie thought for a moment and then asked him another one of her own. "So that was what, twenty-two days ago?"

"Yes Charlotte, I'm glad you know how to count, but-"

"How long have I been here?"

Now she could tell that Monroe was getting irritated. "What? Why does that even matter?"

Rolling her eyes, Charlie challenged him. "Do you even know how long you've had me here?"

Monroe glared at her. "You've been here for eighteen days, unless you count the day that you arrived, which was technically only half a day, which would make it a total of nineteen."

"Then it's settled, Jason isn't dead."

Monroe sighed and ran a hand through his hair, walking over to his chair and plopping down in it, he gave her a tired look. "Charlotte, that doesn't-"

"Will you shut the hell up! You said I could explain, but you keep interrupting me." Annoyed, desperate, and verging on hysterical, Charlie couldn't imagine that she was making a very good case for herself. Monroe frowned at her like she was a particularly difficult puzzle that he couldn't figure out before coming to some kind of conclusion and sitting back in his chair, gesturing for her to continue.

Reminding herself of the fact that she had yelled at him, and was still breathing, was probably a good sign, she took a deep breath. "The day of the attack on the rebel base, the day that I was brought here, me and Miles helped the rebels prepare. Didn't you ever wonder why we were waiting for you? Or why we knew which way you were coming from, or where you were going to hit first?" Not waiting for an answer, Charlie hurried on. "Early that morning I went out to get some water and ran into Jason. He had come to find me so that he could warn us. His face was covered in cuts and bruises, he didn't say where he had gotten them and I didn't ask, but we both knew that they were from his dad. That was nineteen days ago. Three days after Jason supposedly died. So unless he rose from the dead, whoever wrote that report lied, and I'm going to guess that it was Neville."

They sat in silence for a while, Charlie still standing against the wall and Monroe sitting at his desk, chin in his hand, staring at her. Finally, he asked, "why are you telling me this, Charlotte? You could have waited for your rescue to come and gone free, so why tell me?"

Seriously? What an asshole.

Suddenly feeling very tired, Charlie rubbed her eyes. "Don't pretend like you don't know," she said tiredly, "if I tried to leave, you would kill Aaron. That's the reason you're keeping him in the first place, remember?"

Monroe gave her a wry smile, but didn't say anything, deciding again to sit in silence and stare. Charlie scanned the room just for something to do, anything to keep her from having to watch him stare. It was a large room, his desk was big and imposing, and the chairs for guests looked very uncomfortable. The clock sitting on the mantle of the large fireplace read 8:45.

Thirty minutes. If it wasn't for Aaron's imprisonment, she could have been free in thirty minutes. But he was a prisoner just like her, and she loved him too much to risk it.

Monroe appeared to be thinking, playing with the small scrap of paper that was still in his hand. Eventually, he looked up at her and asked, "what the hell does 'don't forget your pen' mean?"

"The pen that she gave me. If you unscrew the part where the ink should be, there's a dagger in it." Charlie tired to keep her voice nonchalant, as if her having a weapon really wasn't that bad.

It didn't work.

Monroe's back stiffened and he jumped up from his seat. "Where is it?"

Sensing that she'd once again entered a danger zone, Charlie answered promptly, "I left it sitting on the vanity in my bedroom. I didn't want you to think I was planning on using it."

Another round of him searching her face trying to catch her in a lie later, and Monroe was at his office door, barking orders for the pen to be retrieved and brought directly to him. He paced the room while they waited for the pen to arrive. Charlie didn't bother speaking or trying to interrupt him, she knew he was thinking, she could tell by the way his jaw worked from side to side and his fingers twitched into fists every few seconds.

When the pen was finally brought to him, he all but snapped it in half while he removed the casing, revealing the small, pointy dagger. Just like she said it would.

Apparently, that wasn't necessarily a good thing though. Monroe's nostrils flared and he shouted angrily at no one in particular before throwing the dagger across the room. It stuck neatly in the wall, just above the clock that now read 8:55.

"Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?" He yelled. "What are you expecting here? That I just let it go and there's no punishment?"

"It's not like I planned it! I had nothing to do with it, I didn't ask to be rescued. I wanted to show it to you so that you could understand-"

Monroe interrupted her, moving to stand in front of her again. "No, you waited until the last second because you were going to go, but then you chickened out, and now you're here trying to cover it up!"

SMACK!

Oh. Shit.

Nice job, Charlie. Slap the President.

Yeah, 'cause that's not punishable by death or anything.

Fucking moron.

Charlie stood completely shell shocked by her own actions, Monroe's face an equal mixture of shock and confusion. He raised a hand slowly to his cheek, she could see the red imprint of her hand already forming on his face. The angry growl rumbling in his chest sent her already chaotic emotions into total overdrive and she slumped against the wall, sliding down it and letting out a wail of epic proportions.

If the I-just-got-bitch-slapped look on Monroe's face had been kinda funny, then his holy-shit-why-the-fuck-is-Charlotte-crying face, must have been freaking hilarious. His eyes were wide and round as he stared down at her, shaking uncontrollably, rocking back and forth in the fetal position.

"P-p-please don't kill Aaron! I-I'm sorry, I j-just don't know what to d-do." Charlie continued to sob in earnest, not daring to look up at Monroe for fear of the repercussions. She was totally content to sit on his office floor and stare at his shiny, black boots for the rest of her life if it kept her family safe.

After what seemed like an eternity, Charlie saw Monroe's boots retreat towards the door through the gap in her legs. Listening in, she heard him giving orders to the men outside the door. "Lieutenant Johnson, find Major Neville and his wife. Bring them both here, don't let them stop for anything, just bring them straight here. Private Riley, I'd like you to take Charlotte back to the other side of the house, but put her in a different room. The rest of you need to discreetly lock down the building, I'm expecting a visitor, and I don't want to miss him."

Visitor?

Oh God, he meant Jason.

Charlie watched Monroe move back into the room with Chad at his heels looking confused, but determined. "It's time to go, Miss Matheson." Chad gave her an imploring look with his back to Monroe, but she ignored Chad in order to ask Monroe yet another question.

"What's going to happen to Jason?" She sniffed.

Coolly, Monroe replied, "Jason Neville is a traitor and a rebel. He will receive the same punishment as all of the others before him."

Scrambling up from the floor, Charlie tried to plead with him, "no, you can't. Jason didn't-"

"I am the President, Charlotte, I can do whatever I want. Now I'm being very lenient with you, so go, before I change my mind." He was using his icy cold President voice again, and Charlie knew she shouldn't press her luck, but she couldn't help it. She didn't want Jason to die because of her.

"But he's not coming here to hurt you, or attack anyone, he's just coming to rescue me. If it wasn't for that he wouldn't even come near this place. Can't you just... just let him go."

Monroe laughed, but this one didn't vibrate happily through his chest like the one at breakfast had. It was cold, and cruel, and it made Charlie's stomach churn. "He's planning on storming my home in order to break you out of here. I consider that an attack. Now go, I'll see you at breakfast, Charlotte."

He turned to his desk, the obvious dismissal making tears sting at her eyes again. Punishments be damned, she wasn't about to sit by and let him kill another one of her friends. "He's just trying to help me," she grasped at what little traction she had left, "haven't you ever done something you knew you shouldn't have for someone you cared about?"

What a stupid question, Charlie.

Scathingly, she corrected herself, "oh, my mistake. That would require you actually caring about someone other than yourself." Finally giving him up as a lost cause, she fled the room, tears pooling in her eyes and blurring her vision. She wasn't paying attention as Chad led her through the halls with a gentle hand on her lower back. He offered her a handkerchief and she took it gladly, attempting to stem the flow of snot running from her nose.

He eventually stopped them outside of a room that Charlie recognized wasn't her own, but she didn't care. Fleeing inside, she slammed the door shut and collapsed in a heap on the bed, curling into a ball on the dusty mattress. She lay there crying for what seemed like hours, until the unmistakable sounds of gunfire pulled her from her bed and toward the single, small window in the room.

But it wasn't gunfire. Brightly colored sparks were exploding in the sky, followed by claps of thunder that rattled the glass. It must be 9:15 now, and this must have been Jason's plan. To use the fireworks as a distraction so he could get into the building. That realization made watching the display nearly impossible, so with her stomach weighted down with guilt, Charlie climbed back onto the bed and attempted to block out noise from outside. When the noise finally stopped, she wiped away some more tears and let the loud silence fill the room.

There was nothing she could do now. And it was all her fault. Why hadn't she thought about what would happen to Jason sooner? She had been so intent on getting back at Neville that she had let Jason become collateral damage. More tears swam in her eyes and she squeezed them shut, trying to block out the images of what Monroe could be doing to Jason right that second.

**9:22 pm**

BANG, BANG, BANG.

Three shots in quick succession, much closer than the fireworks had been, and Charlie knew without a doubt that those had been real gunshots.

One for Neville.

One for his wife.

One for Jason.

Charlie laid on the uncomfortable mattress and cried herself to sleep.

* * *

><p>AN I didn't really want to end it here, but there is sooo much dialogue in this chapter that I needed a good place to cut it off. Also, because of the amount of dialogue I apologize if it gets really repetitive, I tried my best to keep it interesting. Up until now, I've kept the story from Charlie's perspective, but I realized that for what I have planned that isn't going to work, so we will be delving into Bass' mind soon. Just a heads up. Thanks for reading and I would love it if you left a review, I like knowing what you guys think!


	8. Chapter 8

**Day 20**

Head pounding, throat dry, limbs like lead, eyes crusted shut. Charlie gingerly lifted her head from the dusty mattress, shielding her eyes from the sun in an attempt to make the pounding in her head stop.

It didn't work.

The pounding continued and it took several minutes for Charlie to realize that it wasn't because of her headache. Someone was banging on the door. Stumbling out of the bed, she made her way haphazardly to the door.

Chad was on the other side, red in the face and looking extremely worried. "Charlie," he huffed, pushing his way into the room, "I've been trying to get you up for over twenty minutes. You've only got fifteen minutes until breakfast, you need to get ready."

Charlie stared at him for a moment before bursting into hysterical laughter. "If Monroe thinks that I'm seriously going to have breakfast with him after everything that happened last night, then he's even crazier than I thought." She turned away from Chad and moved to go back to bed, hoping that some more sleep would help her headache.

He grabbed her arm. "Charlie, don't be stupid, you saw how Monroe reacted last night. He didn't hurt your friend Aaron, but if you don't get your ass down to breakfast, what do you think he's going to do to him? I hope you didn't go through all of that last night in order to save your friend, just so Monroe could kill him this morning because you want to be stubborn."

Fuck. Chad was right.

"Fine," Charlie grumbled, and they both left the room in silence. Charlie recognized the hallway they were in and started towards the kitchen.

Chad stopped her again, pulling her back towards her own room. "Wait, you can't go like that. You need to clean up first. Come on, Monroe had your room searched for more weapons last night, and said that you're allowed back in there now."

"Oh, how nice of him," she said sarcastically, causing Chad to chuckle. Charlie looked over at the him. He was trying to look out for her even after she had nearly gotten him killed last night. "I'm sorry, Chad... about last night, I mean. I just-"

"Hey," he stopped walking in order to look her directly in the eyes, "I may not like what you did, but I get it. You did what you had to do for your family. I'm not mad."

Giving him a watery smile, Charlie nodded her head in thanks before hurrying into her room to clean up. Dressed in khaki pants and a white shirt, with a clean face and freshly brushed hair, she rushed into the kitchen with three minutes to spare.

Charlie slid into her seat, ignoring the man sitting across from her, and started to pick at the food on her plate. She wasn't hungry. How could she be? Jason's whole family was dead because of her. She didn't really care about Neville, the bastard had killed her dad and kidnapped her brother. But Jason had been her friend and even though his mom seemed like a bitch, Charlie wasn't so sure that she deserved to die.

"Good morning, Charlotte," Monroe said pleasantly.

Knowing she'd be in trouble if she ignored him, Charlie replied flatly, "morning." Through her lashes, she could see him frowning at her, but he didn't say anything. She watched him covertly while he ate his breakfast, he alternated between taking sips of water and bites of oatmeal.

When he finished eating, Monroe rose from the table, and said, "I'll see you at lunch."

Charlie resisted the urge to tackle him to the floor and stab him with her butter knife.

That wouldn't help anything.

But it would have made her feel better.

OpOpOpOpOp

Bass stomped out of the kitchen in a bad mood. Things had been going so well. Charlotte was adjusting nicely to living in Philadelphia, which meant that by the time Miles got back from California, Charlotte would be able to convince him to stay. She was the only person that had been able to convince him to come out of hiding, so Bass had no doubt that a year of living the good life in Philly would be enough to convince her to convince Miles to stay.

That was before everything went to shit though.

Fucking Neville and his stupid fucking kid, and his fucking whore of a wife.

Yeah, the bitch had tried to seduce him more than once, but he didn't give in. No matter how fucking hot she was, he wasn't about to give her and her cock sucking husband anything they could use against him.

The whole Neville family was a giant shit stain on the Republic. First, Neville fucked up and killed Ben, who was the one of the only people who could turn the power back on. Then his dumb-fuck kid went and fell in love with the enemy, turned traitor, and helped Rachel, the only other person who could turn the power back on, get away. Julia was just a ladder climbing, socialite that made everyone look bad.

Ok, so maybe things hadn't been going well, per say, but they were better before Charlotte's little escape attempt.

Charlotte.

The woman was infuriating even on his good days. Her constant disapproval and I'm-better-than-you attitude was constantly pushing him into a bad mood.

But that wasn't really fair...

Bass had to admit that he was rather impressed by her self control. Every now and then he'd catch her staring at him, the obvious contemplation of the best way to end his life, sparkling in her big, blue eyes.

Sometimes he wished she'd just get it over with.

Sometimes he wanted to toss her in a cell with her tubby, little friend and show her what a monster he really could be.

Because really, she hadn't seen anything, yet.

Safely in the confines of his office, Bass shed his uniform jacket and breathed easy. As the years had gone by, the large room seemed to be the only place he could let his guard down. Even in his own bedroom he had to play general. The women he allowed in there expected it.

Now even in the kitchen, he couldn't be himself. Demanding Charlotte's presence at all of his meals had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now... she was always looking at him, even when she was pretending not to be. He could feel her eyes scanning his face, looking for any sign of weakness she could use against him, anything that she could manipulate.

But she had already figured out one of them, hadn't she?

Standing outside his office, pretending to be under attack. He had heard her screaming and immediately gone on the defensive. Miles had left Charlotte under his care, and after what that shithead Nevins had done, there was no way he could risk anything else happening to her.

And she knew it.

Sneaky bitch.

She was like Rachel, calculating and manipulative, and she was like Miles, bull-headed and methodical. Alone, Miles and Rachel were terrifying enough, but a combination... yeah, he was screwed.

But she was also like Ben. He had know Ben growing up, had been a groomsman in his and Rachel's wedding, they weren't brothers like him and Miles had been, but they had been family none the less. He could see Ben in Charlotte's eyes. Whenever she asked whether or not her friend was alright, or when she had defended Jason and Chad, and there were even times when he thought he could see sympathy on her face when she was looking at him.

Charlotte was the ultimate Matheson. Smart, cunning, strong, passionate, and compassionate, all rolled into one very small, very dangerous, little package.

He would have to watch her more closely now.

Much closer.

**Day 43**

Charlie thought she might have finally, completely lost her mind. In the weeks since Jason's death, Charlie had refused to speak to Monroe unless it was to say good morning, good afternoon, or good night. Whether or not Monroe even cared about her silence was unclear. Sometimes she could see his eyes twitch in annoyance and other times he played along, ignoring her completely as well.

Jeremy's absence was killing her. Yes, Chad was good friend, but he wasn't even allowed in her bedroom, so she really only saw him at meal times. They talked through her door occasionally, but since he was always stationed at her door, Chad never went anywhere either, so there wasn't much for them to talk about. According to Chad, he only left his post at night, from 10 pm to 5 am, he went to his own bedroom down the hall, and was replaced by two female guards that took the night shift.

Charlie took note of the fact that the night shift guards were female and had to admit that she was a tad bit grateful. Bastard or not, at least Monroe kept his promises.

Jeremy was due back any day now, and her excitement couldn't be contained. She had practically been bouncing in her seat at breakfast, something that Monroe hadn't failed to point out. She had responded by glaring at him and eating her food in silence.

A short knock on the door startled her from her thoughts and she couldn't help the smile that spread across her lips as a familiar blonde head came into her room. "Jeremy!" Charlie all but threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and holding tightly to him.

He chuckled and patted her back somewhat awkwardly. "Well someones happy to see me."

Grinning up at him, Charlie laughed, "you have no idea. Don't ever go anywhere again, three weeks by myself, with Monroe... well, let's just say I'm glad you're back."

Noticing the way her face darkened slightly, Jeremy asked, "is everything alright? How did things go... you know, with you and Bass."

Taking a deep breath, Charlie lied, "it went about as good as can be expected, given the circumstances." It wasn't that she didn't want to tell Jeremy about what happened, it was just that she wasn't sure she was ready to go through it all again. Not yet, anyway.

Jeremy nodded slowly, she could tell that he didn't really believe her, but she was glad when he didn't press her further. "Alright, well I have to go check in with Bass and give my report, and blah, blah, blah," he rolled his eyes, making Charlie laugh. "But when I'm done, I'll come back down and we can hang out for a while. You can tell me all about the stupid shit you did to piss Bass off and I'll tell you about all the fun I had while I was in Harrisburg."

Smiling for what felt like the first time in weeks, Charlie said, "I can't wait to hear all about it."

OpOpOpOpOp

Two quick knocks on his office door and Bass told whoever the hell it was that was coming to bother him, to come inside. He didn't even bother looking up from Robinson's report on the tax situation in Ohio until he heard Jeremy's voice.

"Alright Bass, what did you do to her?"

Well that wasn't what he had been expecting. Whatever happened to 'hey, what's up? How you been?'

"What are you talking about, what did I do to who?" But, hell, he knew exactly who Jeremy was talking about.

"Don't act like you don't know who I'm talking about Bass. Charlie all but jumped me the moment I walked through the door, and if I'm not mistaken, she almost started crying. What the hell did you do to her that was so bad it made her cry?" Jeremy was standing in font of his desk, looking very much like what Bass supposed a protective older brother would.

"Captain Baker, might I remind you of who you're talking to." Yeah, that's right, he was going to play the President card. He wasn't in the mood to try and explain to Jeremy what had happened or why Charlotte thought he was even worse now than he had been before. He just didn't have it in him.

Jeremy gave him a tired look. "I apologize, Mr. President, I was out of line. Would you like my report now, or-"

"That's not necessary Captain. Go home, rest. We can talk tomorrow." Recognizing the dismissal, Jeremy turned to go, but Bass stopped him. "Oh, and Captain, you should know that there are now new security protocols regarding Charlotte's visitors. No one is allowed to see her without my expressed permission. Understood?"

Frowning, Jeremy said, "yes, sir." And with a quick salute, left the room.

Yeah, he had just prevented Jeremy from visiting Charlotte.

Maybe without Jeremy to talk to, she would finally stop giving him the silent treatment.

**Day 45**

Jeremy had never come back after giving Monroe his report. At first Charlie had been pissed, but Jeremy had managed to sneak her a message at dinner, letting her know that Monroe had banned him from seeing her privately anymore. It only succeeded in making her even angrier with him. As far as she was concerned, she was required to stay in Independence Hall. Nothing else.

"Charlotte... Charlotte, hello!" Charlie nearly jumped out of her seat when Monroe started yelling at her. They were having lunch in silence, which had become their new normal of course, but apparently, Monroe wasn't in the mood for quiet today. "I asked you a question, Charlotte."

Raising an eyebrow, Charlie replied, "I wasn't listening."

And she wasn't the least bit sorry.

"Obviously," he growled, "I asked you if you might like to read the report that I received late last night. I think you might find it interesting."

Eyeing him suspiciously, Charlie asked, "why would I find your stupid report interesting?"

Monroe raised his eyebrows, a small smirk on his lips. "Would you like to read it or not?" He held the paper out to her and Charlie stared at it for a moment. Her curiosity was peaked, and he knew it.

Smug bastard.

Charlie snatched the report out of his hand and read it.

_28 July 2027_

_Charlotte, North Carolina, Monroe Republic_

_Early this morning, a young woman was spotted at the border between the Monroe Republic and Georgia territories. The woman matched the description of known bounty hunter, Nora Clayton. We attempted to pursue her, but she evaded captured and managed to cross the line. The fugitive was accompanied by a middle aged woman with blonde hair, as well as a young man, late teens or early twenties, also with blonde hair._

_This report was sent as an alert for any attempts to cross the border, as instructed by President Monroe._

Charlie had to stop and breath for a moment in order to keep herself from bursting into tears. They made it to Georgia. Danny was safe. Maybe leaving Wisconsin hadn't been a total loss after all.

Monroe rose slowly from his seat and she looked up at him. It was the first time she had really looked at him since he killed Jason. He pursed his lips, like he was trying to stop himself from saying something, and gave her a small smile before leaving the kitchen.

Charlie stared after him. Why had he given her the report? Monroe could have left her wondering if her family was alright, but had chosen to show it to her.

It was probably just his way of manipulating her into talking to him again.

But then why did his smile feel so sincere?

* * *

><p>AN I know, it's pretty anticlimactic after the last few chapters, but we have a whole year to get through, and I'm just getting started. The next chapter will have some Charlie and Jeremy, picking on Bass fun. Thanks for reading guys, leave me a review if you have a second. :-)


	9. Chapter 9

**Day 50**

Monroe's stupid rule about not allowing visitors into her room only kept Charlie from seeing Jeremy for a few days. Charlie simply resumed her earlier practice of arriving at breakfast twenty minutes early and Jeremy had started joining her. He told her all about the boring diplomatic stuff that Monroe had sent him to do in Harrisburg, and Charlie had to admit that she was relieved that he hadn't been sent off just to kill a whole bunch of people.

They were sitting at the breakfast table when a soldier came in carrying Monroe's usual stack of morning reports. Charlie eyed the stack with interest. It wasn't that she actually cared about what any of them said, she just like having something else to think about other than her current predicament. Sliding the pile to her side of the table, she started rifling through the papers.

"Thought you said you were done doing Bass' job for him?"

Charlie shrugged, "I'm not doing it for him, I'm just trying to entertain myself."

Jeremy nodded understandingly and let her snoop in peace. The first few sheets were boring tax reports, a few drunken soldiers roughed up a bartender, and some guy in Maryland had accidentally dyed a batch of new militia uniforms black instead of navy blue.

Boring.

Charlie sipped her morning tea while she continued through the stack, nearly choking when she finally found one that was actually interesting. Laughing, she said, "oh my God, listen to this, it's from the garrison at Annapolis."

Clearing her throat, Charlie read, " _'Paul Zimmerman, a local farmer, was seen exiting a distillery on Monday morning. Five minutes later, the building burst into flames due to an explosion that occurred in the basement, near the distilling equipment. Zimmerman is in custody, but whether or not the explosion was an accident or an act of terrorism is yet to be determined. One injury to a patrolling Sergeant, no casualties.'_ "

Looking up at Jeremy, Charlie laughed. "Are they serious? Why would someone purposefully blow up a distillery? Everybody likes booze, they'd just be punishing themselves."

Snorting, Jeremy shook his head. "I seriously doubt it was on purpose, and just because he was seen there doesn't mean he had anything to do with it. It said he was a farmer, I bet he wasn't anywhere near the distiller."

"Poor guy, Monroe's probably gonna send him to a labor camp for something he had absolutely nothing to do with."

Jeremy gave her a strange look. "What are you talking about? Bass will probably think those guys are just as stupid as we do. Zimmerman won't be in any trouble."

Charlie clicked her tongue. "I don't think so," she said in a sing-song voice.

"And why not?"

Rolling her eyes, Charlie fixed him with an annoyed look. "Because it's Tuesday. Duh."

Jeremy looked at her like she had lost her mind. "What the hell does Tuesday have to do with anything?"

"Monroe hates Tuesday's," she answered simply.

Frowning, he asked, "why does Bass hate Tuesday's?"

Throwing her hands up in the air in exasperation, she said, "don't ask me! I'm just telling you that he hates Tuesday's, I have no idea why. But every Tuesday, Monroe comes stomping in here like a three year old that didn't get his way, and he's like that all day."

"Bullshit."

"Fine, don't have to believe me. You can see for yourself when he gets here."

Jeremy watched her while she continued to read through the stack of reports. "You really think you're right, don't you?"

"I don't think I'm right, Jeremy. I know I'm right."

Grinning like a cat with a mouse in a trap, he said, "alright, Charlie. If you're so confident, why don't you put your money where your mouth is. Figuratively speaking, of course."

Charlie snorted. "You want to bet on Monroe's attitude? Are you serious? I don't even have anything to wager!"

"Ok, just listen for a second. If Bass comes in here and it turns out that you're right, I will give you something. But if you're wrong, then you have to give me something."

Eyeing him skeptically, she asked, "what do I have that you want?"

"It's more like you have to do something. All you have to do is be nice to Bass, and I mean actually nice, no one word answers and no insults. For a whole week."

"What? That's stupid, why would I agree to that, what do I get out of it?"

He thought for a moment, considering his answer carefully. "Name it. But, I can't let you go, help you escape, help Pittman escape, or let you see him. Other than that, name it, and if you win, I'll make it happen."

Charlie sat back in her seat, biting her lip. Of course he threw anything actually useful out the window, but maybe she could get something out of this. Maybe he could let her outside so she could go for a walk or something, or maybe...

"I want the dog."

Jeremy stared at her, confusion evident on his face. "Dog... what are you talking about?"

"There's a stray dog that's always digging in the trash across the street. I want you to bring him to me," she answered simply.

"What, so you can keep it like a pet? What the hell are you gonna do with a dog?"

"That's the deal Jeremy, take it or leave it." Charlie paused for a minute before challenging him further, "but if you're so confident that you're right, then you should have nothing to worry about."

She could see the wheels in Jeremy's mind turning. If she was right, she'd get the dog, which she wasn't really sure why she wanted it. She just knew that if Jeremy gave it to her it would piss Monroe off, well, and then she could feed the poor thing. If she lost, well, she figured she'd been through worse things than being nice to Monroe.

"Fine. If Bass comes in here all pissy 'cause it's Tuesday, I'll get you your damn dog. But if he doesn't, then you have to be nice to him for a week. Deal?" He held out his hand for her to shake, she looked at it for a moment before taking his hand.

"Deal."

OpOpOpOpOp

Stupid fucking Tuesday.

Who's idea was it for there to be a Tuesday?

Oh, if only he could shoot whoever had come up with such a stupid idea. It would certainly make him feel better.

Not that there was any real reason for his despising of the day, but Bass figured that being President meant that he could as un-fucking-reasonable as he wanted.

It wasn't _completely_ irrational though. Tuesday's were tax report day, which meant that he was in for an entire day of reading reports from morons, who for the most part, could barely write, none the less do math.

Shitheads.

Maybe the Republic should consider an educational system for the officers and recruits. Then their reports would at least be legible.

But that would also require a lot of work, which he didn't have time for, and money that the Republic didn't have.

Grumbling and mumbling to himself, Bass entered to kitchen, finding Jeremy and Charlotte grinning like idiots at each other. They both looked up when he came into the room and immediately fell silent, looking down at their plates. He sat down slowly, looking from one to the other other questioningly, but they both were avoiding his eyes. Bass was used to this sort of behavior from Charlotte, but why was Jeremy acting so weird?

Madelyn came bustling over to the table with his morning coffee and a plate of eggs with fried ham. He dumped some sugar into his coffee and gulped the first half all in one. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Charlotte smirk in Jeremy's direction. Looking over at him, he saw Jeremy roll his eyes at her.

"Is something funny?" Both of their heads snapped in Bass' direction, Jeremy looking slightly guilty and Charlotte merely raising an eyebrow. Neither of them said anything, which annoyed him. "What's going on?" He saw Charlotte bite her lip in an attempt not to smile.

What the hell were they laughing at?

Feeling a little self-conscious, Bass smoothed back his hair a little and brushed at the front of his uniform, trying to remove any imaginary wrinkles. "What?" He demanded, "do I have something on my face?"

Charlotte snorted into her mug of tea and he turned to glare at her, but rather than cower like most men would, she stared coolly right back at him with a smirk on her face. Turning to glare at Jeremy, he demanded again, "Captain, is there something wrong?"

Clearing his throat, Jeremy replied, "no, sir."

"Then why the fuck are you two giggling like school girls?"

Jeremy licked his lips nervously. "Well, sir, it's just that you seem... upset."

"I don't see how that would be funny, Captain." Bass glared at him.

"Well, it's a beautiful day, it just seems a bit early to be so upset. Don't you think?"

Bass growled in response. "When or why I am 'upset' is none of you're damn business, Captain. So I suggest you keep your 'thinking' to yourself."

He turned his attention to his breakfast, resolutely ignoring his two breakfast companions and pulling his stack of reports towards him. He skimmed through the report on the top, some guy in Annapolis had blown up a distillery.

Who the fuck blows up a place where they make booze?

Whiskey was about the only good thing left in the world, and that moron wanted to blow it up?

One more guy for the firing squad.

Ok, that may be a little excessive. Even for him.

Alright jackass, off to a labor camp.

Blow up a distillery...

Bass grumbled into his food. God, he _hated_ Tuesday's.

When Jeremy came into his office a little while later, Bass still wasn't in a better mood. Making his way slowly through the stack of reports like a turtle crossing the road.

"Permission to speak freely, Mr. President?" Jeremy asked nervously.

Sitting back in his chair and looking at his only friend, Bass said, "of course, Jer. Have a seat."

He nodded and sat down quietly for a moment before blurting out, "I fucked up Bass."

"What do you mean, what happened?"

Sighing, Jeremy leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. "I made a bet with Charlie, and then I lost. Now I owe her something that I don't think I can give her." Seeing the concern on Bass' face, he hurried on, "I didn't promise to let her go or anything like that."

"Then what the hell did you promise her?"

Jeremy bit his lip. "Ikindatoldhershecouldhavethedog."

Bass blinked at him. "Huh?"

Jeremy blew out a big breath before repeating slowly, "I told her that if she won, that I would get her the stray dog that always hanging around across the street."

"What do you mean 'get'? Like for her to keep as a pet? No. The last thing I need is a damn stray dog running around my house, shitting all over the floor."

"Come on, Bass," Jeremy pleaded desperately, "if I don't give her the dog, she's gonna know that it was because you said no, which will just give her another reason to hate you. And I know you don't want that."

Bass ignored the knowing look in his friend's eyes and said, "I don't care if she doesn't like it. This is my house, and I said no dogs."

Jeremy sighed and shook his head. "Bass, she's locked up in her room all day long. The only people she ever talks to are the two of us. Charlie's lonely, if you give her the dog, it'll keep her company and maybe she won't be so moody all the time." Standing up from his chair, Jeremy went to the door. "Just think about it."

As the door shut being him, Bass growled to no one in particular.

A dog? What the fuck?

But Jeremy had a point, if he gave Charlotte something she actually wanted, she might start talking to him again, which was way better than the silent treatment he was getting at the moment. Bass wasn't sure why, but he had noticed that on the days Charlotte decided to grave him with her presence, figuratively - not literally, the days seemed to pass easier. And anything that made the hell hole that he called his life, better, was more than welcome.

Did it really have to be a fucking dog though?

Tuesday's suck.

**Day 51**

Charlie practically bounced into the kitchen for breakfast. Jeremy hadn't been at dinner because of work, so she was ready to collect her winnings this morning. She popped into her seat with a big, genuine smile that faded when she saw the frown on Jeremy's face.

"Hey, what's up with you?"

Jeremy sighed and opened his mouth to say something just as the kitchen doors burst open. Monroe came striding confidently into the room, holding a dark blue bundle in his arms. He stopped right in front of her and dropped the blanket into her lap. Charlie looked down and was met by a wet tongue all over her face, she crained her neck to keep the dogs tongue away from her nose and lips and looked at Monroe, who was looking decidedly grumpy.

"Give it a bath, 'cause it smells like hell. Private Riley will take you to the courtyard after every meal so it can go to the bathroom. But let me tell you," he said menacingly, " if that thing shits on the floor, then you have to deal with Madelyn. And if she asks, I didn't want the damn thing in the house to begin with. Got it?"

Charlie stared up at him dumbstruck.

"Charlotte, are we clear?"

"Yeah, fine. Whatever. Give him a bath, and don't let him shit on the floor." She nodded her head vigorously as if to convince him that she really understood. Monroe nodded curtly, swiped his reports off of the table, and made his way back out of the kitchen.

"Hey Bass, where are you going? What about breakfast?" Jeremy called after him.

Monroe turned back around, a scowl on his face. "That thing smells like a dead body. I've suddenly lost my appetite."

Charlie was so immersed in her new friend that she didn't notice the grin on Jeremy's face as Monroe fled the kitchen.

**Day 55**

"Jeremy said I should name him Xbox, but I don't even know what that is."

Chad laughed loudly, "it's a video game thing. I had one when I was kid, before the blackout. I played it all the time, I loved it."

They were in the courtyard, Charlie was sitting in the sun, soaking up as much of it as she could while the dog took care of business. "I guess that it kinda makes sense then, I mean, he is a form of entertainment."

The dog in question was currently chasing his own tail. His light brown fur looked much better now that he had had a proper bath, and while he was still skinny, Madelyn had been feeding him plenty of food. She hadn't been too happy when she found out about Charlie's new pet, but she had helped her set up a bath for him in the courtyard and had even started cooking meat especially for the dog.

Now he just needed a name.

"Xbox... I still have no idea what the hell that is, but I kinda like the way it sounds." Charlie smiled at her new friend and looked around, trying to enjoy what little time she was allowed outdoors.

The courtyard was small, but big enough to give Xbox a place to run around. The surrounding walls were only one story high, except for on one side where it was two stories. There were guards in each corner, but Charlie wasn't sure if they were there to keep her in, or keep intruders out.

Looking up at the second story windows, Charlie thought she saw someone's head disappear behind a curtain, but there was no way to know for sure.

"Are you ready to go back in?" Chad asked.

Charlie sighed. "No. But I know that I don't really have a choice." He gave her an apologetic look, but she waved him off as she stood up. "It's alright," turning to the dog she called out, "come here Xbox, come on boy!" The dog bounded happily towards her, and followed them inside.

Charlie heard one of the guards snort with laughter, and say something about stupid names as the door to the courtyard swung shut behind them.

Who cared if Xbox was a stupid name?

She liked it, and Jeremy would be ecstatic when he found out that she let him have his way.

OpOpOpOpOp

Bass felt like an idiot hiding behind the curtains in his own bedroom, but he didn't want Charlotte to catch him staring. He had gone up to his room to grab a clean shirt after spilling coffee on himself, and had heard laughter coming from outside. It was strange to see Charlotte looking so cheerful, and he had to admit, it was much better than her usual frown.

He knew he had to find a way to keep that radiant smile on her face.

Permanently.

* * *

><p>AN Thanks for reading everybody, and thank you for all of the reviews! Especially from the mystery guests that I can't PM. :-) I hope you liked this chapter, leave me a review if you've got a sec!


	10. Chapter 10

**Day 60**

**10:35 am**

"Having fun?"

Charlie cracked an eye open to look up at Jeremy, who was standing over her. "You're blocking my sun."

He chuckled lightly, plopping down on the grass and laying down next to her. "Are you alright? Riley told me that you've been laying out here for over an hour."

She sighed, rolling onto her side to look at him. "Yeah, I'm just trying to enjoy the sun while I can. Monroe said I could bring Xbox out here for bathroom breaks, but he never said there was a time limit."

Jeremy nodded and they both laid in the middle of the courtyard for a while, soaking up the August sun, while the dog played with the chew toy Jeremy had brought for him.

After a while, she added, "plus, my room is so hot. Monroe's got the windows screwed shut, so I don't even get a breeze in there. It's like sitting in an oven."

Jeremy turned his head towards her with a frown on his face. "I thought that there were bars over your windows?"

"There are, but I guess he's worried I'd still be able to get out."

"I'll talk to him. Escape or no, it's not safe for you to be in there like that, with no ventilation. You could die of heat stroke or something, especially in this heat." He gestured around them, indicating the hot summer weather.

Charlie scoffed, "good luck with that. I've been complaining about it for a week, I think that's why he hasn't said anything about my extended trips outside though. It's like he knows that I shouldn't be in there because of the heat, but he's too stubborn to open the windows, so instead, he just let's me stay out here, where he knows people are watching me and I can't get away."

Jeremy turned on his side so that they were facing each other. "You've obviously thought a lot about this."

She shrugged her shoulders and laid on on her back, closing her eyes against the sun. "It's not like I have anything better to do."

He nodded, even though he knew she wasn't looking. "Well I'll talk to him anyway. Maybe if we both work on him, he'll give in. I don't really see the point in screwing the windows shut when there are already bars on them, maybe we can both talk some sense into him."

"Do you really believe that?" She asked him. "That you can talk sense into a crazy person?"

"He's not crazy, Charlie. He's just... misguided... lost." The sad tone in Jeremy's voice made it hard for her to contradict him.

As far as she was concerned anybody that locked a woman up for eight years, just to try and get information from her, was nuts. And now here she was, in the same exact situation, being held captive by the same man that had held her mother.

But Jeremy seemed so sure of himself. That Monroe wasn't crazy.

She couldn't help but wonder if he was right.

**11:20 am**

Sure enough, about an hour before lunch, Chad let two soldiers into her room and they sat and watched while they undid the screws in the windows. Chad told her about the letter he had gotten from his sister, Ellie, the day before. His eleven month old nephew, Tyler, had taken his first steps. It warmed Charlie's heart, seeing the pride on his face. But even with such great news from home, there was bad news as well. His grandmother was sick, the small town's doctor had told his sister that it wouldn't be long. At almost seventy-one years old, it was just her time.

It broke Charlie's heart, to hear the sadness in his voice. She had spent the last eight years thinking that her mother was dead, but it had taken months after her mom had left for Charlie to accept that she had died. Every night, she had sat up and waited for her mother to come back, but she never did.

In a way, her dad's death had been easier. It had been quick and she had been there to witness it. There was no questioning whether he would come back, or if he was still alive. She felt bad for Chad, he was going to spend the remainder of his grandmother's life, worrying about when it was going to end.

The moment the soldiers were finished, Charlie opened the windows, letting the breeze flow into her room. It was still August, so it was still hot as hell, but at least she had some fresh air.

Charlie looked around her room, wondering what else she might be able to pry out of Monroe.

If she asked nicely.

**12:28 pm**

Bass was sitting at the kitchen table, his lunch so far untouched. He found that he did that a lot, waited for Charlotte to arrive before he started eating.

He could remember his father telling him that it was the polite thing to do.

Gentlemanly, even.

Not that Charlotte even fucking noticed.

He wondered vaguely how she would feel about him giving in and opening her windows. Wondered if maybe, just maybe, she'd be grateful.

Yeah, fucking right.

Speaking of little Miss Sunshine...

Charlotte came floating into the room like she was on a cloud, her smile as big as ever, a little dimple in her cheek.

Beautiful. That was the only word that came to mind.

She sat down, making direct eye contact, as she took a sip of water. He watched her, but she merely smiled at him. "Thank you. For opening the windows, I mean. I appreciate it."

Wow. That was unexpected.

"Oh, well, your welcome," he said awkwardly. She continued to smile at him and it was making him feel uneasy all of a sudden.

"Is there something else you wanted, Charlotte?"

He watched her bite her lip worriedly for a moment before saying, "actually, there's this other thing..." She trailed off, looking anxious.

"What is it?"

"It's... well... Chad's grandma, she's sick, and the doctor said she won't live much longer."

Bass stared at her in confusion. "Who the hell is Chad?"

Charlotte gaped at him. "Chad, Private Riley, my guard."

"Oh!" He couldn't help but frown for a second. "I thought his name was Gerald." Shaking his head, he asked, "what about him?"

"His grandma, she's really sick, and I was just wondering... " He watched her pick at the food on her plate for something to do, as she said quietly, "I was wondering if he could go see her, you know, before she dies."

This woman. Was she serious? Riley was literally the one keeping her locked in her room, and yet here she was, trying to help him.

Seriously, who does that?

Only Charlotte.

Bass nodded to her as he started to eat his lunch. "I'll think about it."

**Day 68**

**8:30 am**

Charlie was sitting in her chair in front of the window, watching the guards outside as she usually did to entertain herself. The guards down on the sidewalk, John and Jane, we're looking decidedly bored now that they didn't have Xbox to chase around. And the guards at the front door, Jack and George, we're looking equally depressed. Though Charlie had a feeling that George's dull attitude had more to do with his and Jane's recent break-up. She could tell by the longing looks he sent her way and the awkward way she was avoiding them, that George hadn't been the one to end things between them.

Poor George.

The only one who seemed happy about their recent break-up, was John, who Charlie knew for a fact, had an enormous crush on Jane.

Charlie was actually kind of rooting for him. He seemed like a nice enough guy from a hundred yards away.

She wondered what Miles might be up to. His little convoy of soldiers should be well into Iowa by now, and it made Charlie shudder to think that he hadn't even arrived in California yet. She could picture him riding along on his horse, complaining about his ass hurting or the sun beating down on his neck. It made her smile to think that even in Monroe's stupid uniform, Miles was still Miles.

Monroe hadn't mentioned Nora, her mother, or Danny since he had told her that they made it safely into Georgia. Charlie remembered her mom mentioning grandparents that lived in Texas, when she was little. Maybe they had travelled to be with family. Hopefully, wherever they ended up, they were safe.

Charlie was considering laying down for a nap, like Xbox had over in the corner, when Jeremy's smiling face popped into the room.

"Hey, what are you doing here?"

Jeremy feigned hurt, "what, am I not welcome anymore?"

"No," she laughed, "I'm not supposed to have vistors in my room anymore. Don't you remember what happened last time?"

Jeremy smiled gently, knowing that the Jason's death had been hard on her. "Bass decided to lift me from the ban. You're allowed to have me in here, but that's it."

Charlie rolled her eyes, "how generous of him."

"Hey, give the guy a break. He's trying."

She scrunched up her nose and looked out the window, choosing to keep her mouth shut, rather than argue.

"Do you want to play a game of chess?" He asked.

Charlie snorted. "How many times do I have to beat you for you to realize that you suck at chess?"

Jeremy sat down and started setting up the board. "Don't get cocky, mini-Miles, you'll see, I'll beat you someday." He grinned at her, "I just need some help practicing first."

She tried to roll her eyes, but found it difficult to do while she was laughing. They sat in companionable silence while they played, Charlie trying not to mock him when he made a stupid move and Jeremy trying not to have a temper tantrum when he lost. Again.

Jeremy put the board away and Charlie went back to her armchair, petting Xbox's head as she walked by. Looking over at Jeremy she said, "I asked Monroe a few days ago if he would let Chad go see his grandma. He said he would think about it, but he hasn't said anything about it since then."

Jeremy looked at her questioningly. "Who the hell is Chad?"

Charlie threw her hands in the air in exasperation. "Private Riley! You know, the guy that stands outside my door, all day, every day."

He frowned in the direction of the door, as if he could see Chad through it. "Oh," he said, "I could have sworn his name was Harold."

Seriously?

He had to be joking. How could neither Jeremy, or Monroe know her guard's name?

Monroe even picked the guy himself!

Deciding to ignore the increasing stupidity of the male species, Charlie continued on as if there hadn't been any interruption. "I was wondering if you could talk to him. When we both asked him to open the windows, he did, so I was thinking if we both asked him to let Chad go see his grandma, he would." She did her best puppy dog eyes and knew she had him when he sighed and slumped down onto her bed.

"Fine."

"Thank yo-"

"But I want something in return," he added.

Charlie shrugged. "Ok, fine. What do you want, for me to let you win in a game of chess?"

"Ha, ha," though Jeremy clearly wasn't amused. "No, I want you to help me with something." Charlie nodded her head and he continued. "I'll talk to Bass about him letting your friend go see his grandma, but then I want you to talk to him about going out with me and some of the guys tonight."

She stared at him. "What?"

Jeremy gave her an annoyed look. "Me and some of the guys are going to a bar later tonight, and I think it would be good for Bass to go. Some of the other officers are starting to question if he's fit enough to be our leader-"

"Good, they should be questioning him," Charlie interrupted.

"No, come on, Charlie. Just think for a second, if Bass gets removed from power, then someone else is going to take over. And whoever that person is, certainly won't be a fan of Miles Matheson, which means that you and your friend Aaron are as good as dead."

Charlie thought for a moment. It made sense. Miles was technically a deserter of the militia, which meant that whoever took Monroe's place would want Miles dead. Which meant that there was no reason to keep her and Aaron alive.

Sighing, she nodded her head. "Alright, but he's not going to listen to me."

"Yeah he will. Trust me. All you have to do is tell Bass, that I told you, that me and the guys are going out drinking tonight. And then you need to tell him that you think he should join us, for whatever reason, just make something up. Then later, I'll invite him to come with us, and he won't be able to say no because you'll have already put the idea in his head." Jeremy grinned, like he had just come up with the most brilliant plan on the planet.

"I don't know," Charlie said slowly, "that's assuming that Monroe cares enough about what I think to even consider it."

Jeremy looked irritated. "Well unless you have a better idea, this is what we're going with."

"Actually, I think I do." She leaned forward in her chair conspiritorily. "We all know that Monroe only gave me the dog because you lost the bet, and it tied his hands. If he didn't give me what I wanted, then I would have been free to be pissy for the next ten months."

Raising his eyesbrows, Jeremy said, "I don't see what that has to do with anything."

"If you tie his hands, Monroe won't have any other choice but to go with you." It was like explaining math to a three year old.

"Ok," Jeremy smiled, "so what do I tell him?"

"Just tell him that we made another bet on whether or not you could get him to leave the house."

"Alright, so what are the stakes? It'll have to be something big enough to get Bass to leave the house."

Charlie grinned. "Tell Monroe, that if you loose the bet, then you have to let me go outside." Jeremy started to shake his head, but she stopped him. "I don't mean you have to let me go, but you have to let me go outside and go for a walk, let me be around people that aren't in uniforms."

Jeremy nodded slowly, biting his lip. "That could work. Bass is terrified that you'll find some way to escape. He'll come out drinking with me if it means keeping you in the house."

"Exactly." Charlie tried not to look to proud of herself, but who was she kidding?

They were about to con the President of the Monroe Republic.

And they were totally going to get get away with it.

**12:30 pm**

Charlie tried to keep calm as she headed to lunch, talking about conning Monroe was one thing, but actually doing it, that was something else all together. If they were caught, it was very possible that she and Jeremy would both end up dead, as well as Aaron, for even thinking that they could get away with it.

It felt good though. To finally have a plan, not necessarily to free herself, but to feel useful, like she was actually accomplishing more than simply cataloging Monroe's facial expressions. She could feel the blood rushing through her veins, the adrenaline pumping through her system. It was like the thrill of a fight, only not as violent, but with just as nasty outcomes.

In her peripheral vision, she could see Chad giving her strange looks, like he knew that something was going on. Luckily, he had the sense to keep his mouth shut.

In the hot August weather, the kitchen had become incredibly hot. In the mornings it usually wasn't so bad, but by the time lunch rolled around, it was unbearable. Monroe had taken to eating their informal meals in the formal dinning room, with the windows that looked out to the courtyard hanging wide open, hoping to tempt the non-existent breeze.

He had also started taking off his jacket in order to eat. Charlie wasn't sure if it was because of the boiling heat, or if it could have anything to do with his newfound trust in her.

Either way, it meant that she didn't have to watch him sweat to death while they ate.

Dropping her shoes off outside of the door to the dinning room, Charlie padded barefoot into the room, the plush carpet feeling warm and squishy under her feet. Monroe sat in his chair, having long since given up on pushing in her chair for her, waiting for her to arrive, his food untouched.

He did that a lot.

Why?

Who knows...

As she sat down, Charlie noticed his jacket draped over the back of his chair, and the way his t-shirt stuck to his sweaty skin.

"How was your morning?" Charlie asked him. She had discovered that attempting to be pleasant usually got her what she wanted.

He shrugged his shoulder nonchalantly. "Same as usual. So and so, did something stupid out in DumbFuckLand, and blah, blah, blah." He smirked as he started digging into his lunch, a salad with fresh vegetables and Madelyn's homemade raspberry dressing.

Which was delicious by the way.

"How was your's?" He asked.

Charlie wet her lips with her tongue, buying herself a moment of time to gather the courage she needed to start the game that she and Jeremy were about to play.

"It was good," she gave him what she hoped was a convincing smile, "Jeremy came to my room and I kicked his ass at chess. Again. Thanks for that by the way, letting him back in."

Monroe shrugged like it was nothing, but Charlie knew that it had probably taken a whole bunch of convincing and nagging from Jeremy to make it happen. She smiled in an attempt to keep the good atmosphere going.

"Jeremy said that him and some of the guys are gonna go out tonight," she kept her voice casual, "are you going with them?"

He chewed slowly, seeming to choose his words carefully. "Why do you ask?"

Charlie shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. "Just curious I guess. You've been in such a good mood lately, that I thought you might have decided to go out and have some fun for a change."

"I have fun." But his answer was just a little too quick, and a little too forced to be believable.

"Right," she said sarcastically, "because reading reports in your office and eating with me is such a blast." Charlie knew she was pushing her luck. Challenging Monroe would either get her exactly what she wanted, or blow up in her face. She watched him take a drink of his water, the way his lips pulled in a tight line told her that he was irritated, not mad.

Irritated was something she could work with. She'd had plenty of practice with Miles.

"I'm just saying," she continued on gently, because changing tactics would throw him off, "maybe it would be good for you. Help you clear your head."

Monroe sighed loudly, the lines in his forehead becoming more pronounced as he attempted to contain his growing irritation. "Thank you for your concern, Charlotte. I'll take your opinion into consideration."

Which was Monroe-speak for 'now shut the hell up before you really piss me off', so she did. Charlie ate the rest of her lunch quietly, watching him let her words sink in. His attitude went from irritated, to accepting, to almost - quite possibly happy, and back to irritated by the time she had finished eating.

On the way back to her room, Charlie wondered how their little plan would work out. Best case senario, Monroe would fall for it and maybe convince some of his officers that he wasn't a total nut job, which meant that she and Aaron would be safe from other people trying to take over for a little while longer. That would also mean that she would have to be nice to him for a week, but if it kept Monroe in power, then it kept her family safe.

Safety was her main priority.

Even if it meant she'd have to swallow her pride.

**5:45 pm**

"Miss Matheson," Madelyn entered Charlie's room with a big grin on her face, "the President asked me to inform you that the formal dinner for tonight has been canceled."

Charlie had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep herself from smiling. She couldn't let anyone know that she had any idea before hand. "Really?" She tried to sound surprised, "why?"

"Well," Madelyn answered happily, "Captain Baker finally managed to convince him that he needed to go out an have some fun. I just came in to let you know, and I wanted to ask if you want to eat your dinner in the kitchen or in here tonight?"

"I'll eat in here, as long as that's all right with you."

"Of course, dear." Madelyn gave her a warm smile. "I'll bring dinner in a little while, alright?"

Charlie nodded. "Thanks, Madelyn."

"Mhmmm..." The older woman left the room, all smiles and humming.

Charlie almost couldn't believe it, their plan had worked.

**6:50 pm**

Madelyn had just brought in dinner and Charlie was curled up in her chair, eating roasted pork and potatoes, while she gazed out the window. It was so peaceful, to sit and eat in her room, alone no less. It was a nice change from the usual officer infested dinners.

BANG!

What the hell?

A gun shot rang out, the sound cracking from outside her window. Charlie set her plate down and stood in front of it, trying to see what was going on while Xbox barked excitedly. "Calm down, buddy, it's ok." She rubbed her hand over his head while she crained her neck to see outside.

The soldiers stationed on the front lawn were scattering in different directions. Jack and George ran in the front doors and shut them behind them, while John and Jane ran up from the sidewalk and took up positions in front of the doors. Ten or so other soldiers were shouting orders and running up and down the street.

As far as Charlie could tell, no one out front had been hurt, which meant that either whoever was shooting had missed, or they had been shooting somewhere else.

Charlie went and knocked urgently on the door. "Chad, did you hear that? What's going on? Chad!" Through the door, she heard something thump loudly. "Chad?"

The door opened without warning and a man with dark hair backed into the room, dragging Chad's limp body. Charlie watched in horror as the man shut the door and turned around to face her, his smile making her stomach churn.

"Hello, kitten," he purred, "I've missed you."

Oh shit.

Nevins.

* * *

><p>AN Welcome back, Nevins! Oh, no one else is excited to see him? My bad... :-) I owe a big thanks to KimberlyHavey for helping me muddle through my own thoughts on this one, thanks girl! Thanks for reading everybody, leave me a review if you have a minute!


	11. Chapter 11

**Day 68**

**5:15 pm**

Bass was sitting at his desk pretending to read some intelligence reports from the Plains Nation border while he considered the conversation he and Charlotte had had during lunch.

Going out with the guys actually sounded like a pretty good idea, but being the boss meant that 'hanging out' would be impossible. It would either be a night of ass kissing, or assassination attempts. And that did not sound like fun.

Which was another thing, since when did Charlotte care about whether or not he had fun?

The simple answer? She didn't. She just enjoyed messing with his head.

The complicated answer? Stockholm Syndrome, or some other type of mental illness caused by spending too much time locked up with one person.

He tried not to think about that weird, little floppy feeling in his stomach when he considered any of the other possibilities.

Knocks on the door pulled him from his thoughts and Bass tried to make it look like he was doing something before he shouted for them to enter. "Mr. President." Jeremy came waltzing into the room, all happy smiles and confidence.

Dropping the pretense of having actually been working, Bass smiled at his friend. "Hey, Jer, what are you doin' here?"

"Well," Jeremy drawled, "me and the boys are going out tonight. I just wanted to come by and invite you, see if you're up for a night of bad booze and sleazy hookers." He waggled his eyebrows as if everything about that statement screamed awesomeness.

Bass eyed him suspiciously. "You too, huh?" When Jeremy merely looked on innocently, he asked, "did you put her up to it?"

"Did I put who, up to what?"

"Don't play stupid," he growled, "Charlotte told me earlier that she thinks I should go with you."

"She did?" He asked. "Well, I told her we were going. Maybe she just thinks that you need some time off."

He scoffed. "Yeah, or she just wants me out of the house so she can make her escape."

"Bass-"

"No," Bass reined himself in, trying to control himself. "You've seen her, Jeremy. Charlotte is just like Miles, and if it was Miles locked up in that room you know damn well that he would have multiple escape plans in play."

Jeremy sighed, disappointed in his friend. "Bass, she isn't Miles. Charlie is so different from him, I would have thought that with as much time as you spend with her, you would have realized that by now."

Yeah, he had.

But no one else needed to know that.

Turning towards the window, Bass pretended to be looking at something while he considered Jeremy's words. He was right, in a way. If she were Miles, Charlotte would have already escaped a long time ago. But she hadn't. In fact, in the time that she'd been in Philly, she had basically proved the exact opposite of trying to escape. Turning Neville in, and reporting her own boyfriend's attack on the house. Charlotte had proved her loyalty, albeit unwillingly.

He wasn't dumb enough to think that Charlotte actually cared about him. He just knew that she was smart enough to know, that him staying in power was good for her.

For now at least.

"Bass?" He turned and saw Jeremy looking at him worriedly, he hadn't realized how long he'd been stuck in his own thoughts. "Just this once, come with us, please?"

Oh fuck, he was doing the whole 'I miss you, buddy' thing. And it was fucking working.

Sighing loudly, he said, "alright, but just this once."

Jeremy all but jumped for joy, laughing and clapping him on the back. "you won't regret it Bass, I promise."

Yeah, you better sure as hell hope not.

**6:47 pm**

As they walked out of the back entrance of Independence Hall, Bass was struck by the fact that it was the first time he'd actually been outside in at least a year. The thought made him pause and Jeremy turned toward him. "Hey, you ok?"

Nodding his head slowly, Bass plastered on a smile. "Yeah, let's go."

Jeremy grinned before leaning in front of him. "You've got some lint on your-"

BANG!

Bass wasn't truly aware of what was happening around him. He was only aware of Jeremy's weight falling into his arms and the sticky, warm liquid coating his hands and staining his uniform.

"Sir, sir, we need to move!" Barely registering Johnson's voice, he let the Lieutenant drag him back towards the house, effectively taking Jeremy with them as well. Once they were inside the building, Bass dropped to his knees, trying to assess Jeremy's wounds.

"Somebody get Dr. Huber down here, now!" It was all he could think about. The growing stain of dark red blood on the side of Jeremy's jacket sending panic through his entire body. He tore the buttons off as he yanked the jacket open, the white shirt underneath it already soaked with blood. "Fuck, Jer..."

But Jeremy sure as hell wasn't listening. His eyes were closed and his face was pale. Bass reached a shaky hand towards his neck in order to feel for a pulse. It was there, but barely. Madelyn appeared at Jeremy's other side with a stack of towels and he grabbed one, putting pressure on the wound to try and slow the bleeding.

Looking up at the soldiers surrounding them, he yelled angrily, "where the hell's the doctor?" As they all scrambled away, he called after them, "and somebody bring me that fucking shooter!"

He looked down at Jeremy's face and felt a pang in his chest. If he died, then Jeremy would become just another face in a long line of long lost loved ones. And it was all because he wanted to go out and have fun, he had let Jeremy talk him into it. Charlotte, too.

Charlotte.

"Fuck!" Bass screamed, making Madelyn jump. He leap to his feet and ran down the hallway in the direction of the residential end of the house.

She had talked him into this. It was her idea. This must have been her plan.

Get him to go outside, so an assassin could take him out. But they missed, and hit Jeremy instead.

Forget Miles and his fucking promise.

Charlotte killed Jeremy.

Now she had to die.

**6:53 pm**

Charlie stood frozen in place, the shock of seeing Nevins again momentarily stopping any control she had over her body. She watched him drag Chad further into the room and toss him into the corner. He was unconscious and there was blood all over his face. Xbox wandered over to him and licked his hand, whimpering slightly.

Chad would be alright. He had to be.

"Aww," Nevins clicked his tongue at her, "I'm sorry, kitten, but your little boyfriend had to go. He was getting between us." He stroked her cheek gently with the back of his hand, making Charlie shudder and succeeding in bringing her body back to life.

She flinched away from his hand. "Get away from me. What are you doing here?" She almost hated herself for thinking it, but she couldn't help but say, "Monroe's gonna be pissed when he finds out you're in my room."

Which was true.

Nevins had knocked Chad unconscious, which meant that this wasn't a sanctioned visit.

Which meant that Monroe was going to be angry. Simple logic.

Nevins laughed coldly. "I don't nee that pussy's permission to see you. You're mine, remember?" The seemingly genuine smile on his face made Charlie want to vomit. This guy wasn't just a sick pervert, he was a completely deranged, sick pervert.

"I'm not yours," though she said it with more bravery than she felt. The door was less than ten feet away, but she would have to go through Nevins to get to it, and she didn't want to get any closer to him than absolutely necessary.

Apparently, he had other ideas. Nevins lunged towards her, grabbing her arms and pinning them to her sides while he crushed her to his chest. Charlie turned her face away from him, her cheek pressed against his shirt, but he merely chuckled and pressed his face into her hair, inhaling deeply. "God, I've missed you."

Charlie struggled against him, but with her arms pinned to her sides she couldn't use them for leverage, which only left her with her feet. She tried stomping on his toes, but he just avoided her feet and continued to laugh before picking her up bodily from the ground and carrying her to the wall, pushing her against it with his body.

With him so close, she could feel the bulge in his pants which literally made her gag. Nevins pressed harder into her and grabbed her chin in his hand, forcing her face upwards. She tried to pull away but he held her in place, so she settled for looking anywhere but at his nauseating face.

"Mmmm," he hummed appreciatively, "so beautiful." He ran his thumb over her bottom lip so she tried to bit him, which only made him happier, "gotta love a fighter."

Then his lips were on hers. Dry and cracked, and hard before his tongue started trying to force its way past her lips. Charlie pushed them together tightly in a vain attempt to stop him as his hand forced its way under her shirt and pulled her bra aside. He yanked painfully at her nipple, causing her to yelp in pain, giving his tongue the access it wanted.

Charlie bit down hard on Nevins' tongue and he pulled away from her, glaring. "You little bitch." He swung out with his fist and hit her on the side of the head. With black spots clouding her vision and pain radiating through her skull, Charlie staggered sideways.

Nevins grabbed the front of her shirt and pulled hard, causing the fabric to tear around her neck and he didn't stop until the tattered garment was on the floor. Then he shoved her face first onto the bed and for the first time, it occurred to Charlie what Nevins was really after.

Panic and adrenaline flooded her entire body. She tried to stand up but one of his huge hands pushed her back down and held her in place. The other wound its way around her waist and she felt his fingers push past the waistband of her pants and cotton underwear.

Tears pooled in her eyes as she started to beg, "no, please don't."

The hand on her back smacked hard against her skin and he said, "shut up, and maybe I'll be nice."

She slumped onto the bed, tears falling onto the blanket in earnest as his cold fingers pierced her folds. He leaned over her, purring in her ear, "God, I wanted to do this from the moment I laid eyes on you, but I knew that the President was partial to blondes, so I waited. I should have known that he would send me away when he found out that I tried to take his prize."

He pushed one of his fingers into her dry opening, causing Charlie to cry out in pain. "Please," she screamed, "leave me alone!"

She was shocked when his movements stilled and Nevins howled in pain. He ripped his hands away from her and fell flat on his ass with a 'thump' while he continued to moan in pain. Blinking back tears, Charlie forced herself to stand upright and see what was happening. For the first time, Charlie noticed that Xbox was growling. The dog was standing between her and Nevins, his teeth barred. Nevins was holding his ankle and whimpering while he rocked back and forth.

This was her chance.

"Stupid dog," he yelled as he moved to get up, but Charlie was already at the door, wrenching it open and running down the hallway at top speed.

Her only thought was that she needed to get away from Nevins.

She needed someone to help her.

She needed Monroe.

**6:59 pm**

Bass flew past the front doors and nearly busted the door down as he entered the secret hallway that led to the residential wing. He turned around the sharp corner and yanked the door open, hurtling down the hallway in the direction of Charlotte's room. He slowed down as he prepared to round the corner, but was shocked when he collided with something small and soft. It was moving fast, and sent him flying backwards, flat on his back.

He was immediately angry with whoever had knocked him down, and was currently sprawled on top of him, but his anger dissipated when he his eyes met familiar big, blue ones. Wide and filled with fear, Charlotte's eyes moved frantically over his face. She looked wild, feral even, when two little words escaped her lips as nothing more than a breath. "Help me."

Forgetting everything else that had happened in the past ten minutes, Bass' mind immediately went into protective mode. He flipped them over so that Charlotte was beneath him and then jumped to his feet, his hand on the sword in his belt as he looked around for the threat. His question was quickly answered as a man that he vaguely recognized came running around the corner with Xbox snapping at his heels.

Bass took in the man's appearance. His pants were torn around the ankle and covered in red splotches, but what really caught his attention, was his unfastened zipper. Red hot fury filled Bass' veins as the guy came to a halt in front of him, his lips twisting up into a smile.

He didn't even try to find out what the hell was going on. Bass lunged forward and took the man's head in his hands, twisting sharply until, SNAP! The guy's lifeless body slumped to the floor, his neck sticking out at an odd angle and his eyes still open wide.

Several long moments and deep breaths later, Bass finally turned around, finding Charlotte still sprawled out in the floor, right where he had left her. Her chest was rising and falling fast, making him realize that she was only covered by her thin bra which was slightly askew, revealing much more of her chest than he would have liked.

Quickly removing his jacket, he hurried towards her and covered her up. "Charlotte," Bass tried and failed to catch her eye, "Charlotte, look at me." She blinked slowly, the haze seeming to leave her eyes as she looked at him. Bass reached out and gently touched the bruise forming on her face. "Did he hurt you?"

Clearly he had hurt her, she had a bruise on her face. But he knew that she knew, that wasn't what he meant.

She shook her head slowly and Bass blew out a calming breath. "Ok, can you stand?" Nodding, she sat up and let him pull her to her feet. He watched her pull his jacket around her so that it sat correctly on her shoulders before pulling the front shut with her arms still on the inside.

"Come on," he started to lead her away from the dead guy on the floor but she stopped short and turned to him with wide eyes.

"Chad!" Charlotte took off at top speed in the direction of her bedroom, leaving him no other choice but to follow. By the time he reached the room, Charlotte was already on her knees next to Riley. The dark red puddle, oozing around his head making his future look bad.

If he had one at all.

Bass rushed over and for the second time that evening, checked for a pulse. Nothing. Charlotte looked at him with tears in her eyes, asking for verification of the worst. Unable to bring himself to say the words, he merely shook his head. She yelled, grabbing Riley's face in her hands, trying to wake him. But there was nothing she could do for him now, Riley was dead.

He watch her dissolve into tears again, holding tightly the the Private's chest while she sobbed and mumbled incoherent apologies.

How did he know that she was apologizing?

Experience.

The way the guilt weighed down on her shoulders was something he was much to familiar with.

"Charlotte," she ignored him. "Charlotte," Bass reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, "come on, there isn't anything we can do for him."

But apparently that had been the wrong thing to say, because she started crying even harder. Her knuckles were white from gripping his jacket so hard. Bass knew that taking her away from him wouldn't do anybody any good, so he waited until her sobs slowed and turned into tiny whimpers.

Without stopping to think about whether or not it was a good idea, Bass stood up and hooked an arm beneath Charlotte's knees and slid the other around her back. She struggle against him, her voice weak and tired against his neck. "No... please... "

"Shhhh, I've got you, you're safe," he whispered into her hair. She continued to whimper quietly, but stopped struggling. Instead, she fisted her hand tightly in the front of his t-shirt and held on for dear life.

Bass left the bedroom quickly, his steps sure, with Charlotte nearly asleep in his arms and Xbox trotting at his side. As they rounded the corner, they found Madelyn crouching over Nevins', yes - he had realized who the guy was, dead body. The older woman looked up as they approached with worry lines covering her face when she saw the woman in his arms.

"Is she... " Madelyn trailed off, like she was afraid to say the words out loud.

He shook his head. "No, it's not her blood," he answered quickly, "I'm taking her upstairs."

Madelyn's face turned from worry to shock in a heartbeat. "Sir, are you sure?"

"Yes," he answered shortly, "I want her where I can keep an eye on her. This fuck-up ," he nudged Nevins with his toe, "could have killed her. I won't let something like this happen again. Not in my house." He set off for the stairs in the residential side of the house, ignoring the way it made his heart hurt to even think about them.

There were two staircases in the house that led to the second floor, one was by his office, and the other was near the dining room. The one near the dining room was closest to his destination, but Bass had avoided using it for the past five years, opting to take the long way around everyday, just so he wouldn't have to remember the man he used to walk them with. It had become an unspoken rule among the staff as well, if the President didn't use the stairway, they couldn't either.

As they approached the stairs, Bass had to remind himself that he was doing it for Charlotte's safety. Miles be damned. His feet were slow, but deliberate as he climbed the steps, making sure not to misstep and risk hurting Charlotte or Madelyn, who was right behind him.

Once on the second floor, he turned the corner and stopped in front of a door that he had avoided for a long time. He looked at Madelyn, who was looking very uncomfortable. "Maddie, please," he said gently, and the woman complied, taking a key from around her neck and unlocking the door. While she did that, he looked down at Charlotte's face, her eyes were closed and lips were slightly parted. She was asleep, Bass could feel her warm, steady breaths against his neck.

The room smelled of dust and disuse, the couches and dining table sat sadly, long forgotten. Bass passed them and went to the door on the right side of the room. Madelyn rushed ahead of him and opened it, hurrying into the bedroom and turning back the dusty covers on the big bed. He set Charlotte down and pulled the blanket up over her just as Xbox jumped on the bed.

"Bad dog, down," he commanded, but the dog ignored him and laid at Charlotte's feet. Bass went to grab the dog but stopped short when he noticed the blood around his mouth. Remembering the tear in Nevins' pant leg, and the way the dog had been chasing after him, Bass smiled. "Good boy, Xbox, you bit that bastard," he rubbed the dog's head affectionately, "good boy." He decided to let the dog stay, it would protect Charlotte if nothing else.

Madelyn had watched him interact with the dog quietly and followed him out of the room when he left. As soon as Bass shut the door behind him, he turned to the older woman, "how's Jeremy?"

"Dr. Huber is with him now. He said it isn't good, he's lost a lot of blood."

Bass nodded slowly, trying to add that to his long list of worries. "Ok, help him find some people do donate blood, Jeremy's blood type is B-negative, and find Johnson and send him up here. I'm not leaving her alone." He nodded his head in the direction of Charlotte's new room and Madelyn nodded.

"Right away, sir," and then she hurried off on short legs down the hallway.

Taking a deep, calming breath, he moved towards the windows and the dusty bottles of scotch that sat near them. He wiped out a glass and poured himself a healthy amount, throwing it back before refilling it.

Lieutenant Johnson appeared in the doorway. "You asked to see me, sir?"

"Where are we on the shooter?"

"No leads yet, sir, but we have men searching a three block radius."

Turning to look at him, Bass told him, "make it five. I want this asshole found by morning."

Johnson nodded, "yes, sir."

As an after thought, Bass added, "and send someone down to Charlotte's bedroom to retrieve Private Riley. I want him to be treated with the utmost respect. And then send somebody to get that trash, Nevins, out of my hallway. And then, " he added angrily, "I want to know exactly how that piece of shit got into my house, when he's supposed to be in a labor came three days ride from here!"

"Yes, sir." Johnson said nervously, "I'm on it." Bass waved his arm for Johnson to leave, and the man hurried away. Draining his glass and refilling it again, Bass took his gun out of it holster and moved towards Charlotte's door. He turned his back to it and slid down to the floor, cradling his gun in one hand and his scotch in the other.

If anyone wanted to get to Charlotte, they were going to have to go through him first.

* * *

><p>AN Please don't hate me! I know some of you really liked Chad, but I felt like his death was necessary for Charlie and Bass' relationship to move forward. Thanks for reading everybody, and leave me a review if you're feeling extra nice. :-)


	12. Chapter 12

**Day 69**

Her head was pounding, the side of her face sore and so swollen that her left eye was nearly shut. Other than that, Charlie felt fine. She was in a warm comfortable bed and was surrounded by an inviting smell, smokey and spicy, with just the right amount of sweet. It was familiar somehow, she just couldn't put her finger on it.

Sitting up, she recognized that the room she was in wasn't her bedroom. A large dresser, two armchairs by the window, a full length mirror by the door, and a small clock on the bedside table that wasn't ticking. Judging by the amount of dust on it, it had been a while since anyone had wound it up. Actually, judging by the amount of dust on everything, it had been a while since anyone had even been in the room.

Where the hell was she?

Through the open doors to her left, she could see the empty closet and a dusty mirror over the vanity in the bathroom. As she stood up, she realized that she was still wearing Monroe's uniform jacket. It was covered in blood. Lifting her arms, she saw her own bloody fingertips poking out of the sleeves.

Chad's blood was on her hands. Literally.

Charlie let the tears fall as she made her way into the bathroom to relieve herself. She did the best she could to clean herself up in the tepid water next to the sink, drying off with the dusty, old towel hanging there.

Wondering where she was, what she was supposed to do now, and what Monroe was going to do about Chad's death, Charlie wandered back into the bedroom and pulled open the door that presumably led out of the room. She almost screamed when a man fell backwards into the room, laying face up in the doorway.

"Monroe!" Kneeling next to him, Charlie started to check his head where it had hit the floor, but stopped short when he chuckled, smirking up at her with his blue eyes shining.

"I'm fine, Charlotte." He sat up against the door frame and she sat back against the other side, pulling her knees up to her chest. Charlie saw the empty glass on his other side, the gun laying on the ground between them, and took in his tired face.

She didn't even consider trying to go for the gun.

Ok, yeah, she did. But only for a second.

Ignoring the loaded weapon between them, she turned her attention to the man that had been sleeping outside her door only moments ago. "Have you been sitting out here all night?"

Monroe nodded slowly, seeming to consider his words. "Yeah, I wanted to make sure that you were safe."

Charlie picked at the ends of the bloody jacket sleeves, biting the inside of her cheek. "Thank you," she said softly.

He didn't say anything, merely nodded. They sat there for a few minutes, listening to the quiet house around them. Eventually, Xbox wandered towards them, panting while he nudged at Monroe's hand. She watched him scratch the dog's ears while it licked at his other hand. "Since when are you two such good friends?" She asked.

Monroe smiled, a real smiled that reached his eyes, making him look ten years younger. "I think we just realized that we have a lot in common, "at Charlie's confused expression, he elaborated, "we both want you to be safe."

Charlie had to bite back the smile threatening to break through. She wasn't sure why the idea of Monroe keeping her safe made her heart flutter. Looking back down at his bloody jacket, she decided to change the subject so she wouldn't have to think about it. "Sorry, I think I ruined your jacket."

"Nah, that wasn't you. Most of that blood was already on the jacket before I even put it on you."

Her head snapped up at that. "Whose blood is it then?"

Monroe sighed, meeting her eyes with his own sad ones. "It's Jeremy's."

"What? Oh my God, is he... is he dead?" She asked, fearing the worst.

He leaned forward, trying to reassure her. "He was doing alright the last time Madelyn checked in. That was a few hours ago."

Charlie searched his face, trying to decipher what had happened just from his eyes. "How did he get hurt? Why was he bleeding?"

Taking a deep breath, Monroe launched into the story of how Jeremy had been shot. Charlie pieced it all together in her head. The shot she heard before Nevins showed up was the one that had hit Jeremy, and Monroe had been coming to find out what she knew about it when he stumbled into her fleeing Nevins' attack.

"Did you guys get the shooter?" She asked him.

"Yeah, he's with Strausser now. I want to know who was behind this."

Charlie shivered, though if it was from from the mention of Strausser or the dark tone in Monroe's voice, she wasn't sure. "Is Jeremy gonna be alright, what did Dr. Huber say?"

"I actually don't know," he looked at her, "I was waiting for you to wake up. I figured you would want to see him too."

She nodded her head quickly, scrambling to her feet. "Well, what are we waiting for, come on." Without even thinking, she reached out a hand towards Monroe to pull him to his feet. He took it, also without thinking, and let her pull him up. They moved quickly to the door, stopping only when Madelyn appeared, blocking their path.

Monroe looked down at her. "We're gonna go check on Jeremy, and then-"

"Oh, no sir, Mr. President." The older woman looked up at him defiantly.

"Excuse me?"

Madelyn pushed them back into the room, allowing a line of soldiers carrying buckets of bath water to flow into Charlie's new room. "With all due respect Mr. President, someone tried to assassinate you yesterday and someone else attacked Miss Matheson," the older woman paused as if for dramatic effect, while they both jumped to their own defenses.

"I'm fine," Charlie insisted, while Monroe said, "I still have a job to do."

Madelyn held up a hand to silence them. "I understand that, but no matter how fine you might be or how much work you have to do, you both need baths and food. And I refuse to let either of you leave the suite until you've done so." The look on Madelyn's face clearly said that she wasn't kidding around. Charlie took one look at the angry scowl on Monroe's face and nearly collapsed into a fit of giggles at the President of the Monroe Republic being told what to do by his elderly housekeeper.

"Fine," he ground out, "quick baths, then breakfast. I have a lot to do today."

Charlie watched him disappear through the door opposite her bedroom, stomping like an angry three year old the whole way. Turning back to Madelyn, she found the older woman looking at her worriedly. "I'm fine, Madelyn. I promise."

Madelyn nodded, appearing somewhat satisfied as she ushered Charlie back into the bedroom and into the bathroom. There was a fresh change of clothes on the counter and all of her bathroom supplies had been brought up from her room.

Her old room, she reminded herself.

This was her new room.

Which was apparently directly across from Monroe's.

Quickly stripping out of her clothes, Charlie got into the steaming bath, allowing herself a moment to relax in the hot water before scrubbing herself clean. She really wanted to see Jeremy, but she also really wanted to remove any evidence of Nevins ever being anywhere near her, so she settled herself for a quick, hard scrub and then got out.

Dressed in fresh black pants and a purple t-shirt, she left her bedroom, finding Monroe buttoning up his jacket while Madelyn set the dusty dining table with their breakfast. Charlie continued to towel dry her hair while she asked, "we're eating up here?"

To her surprise it was Madelyn who answered. "The President and Mr. Matheson used to eat all of their meals up here. They spent all of their spare time up here, in the living room with Captain Baker." Charlie raised a questioning eyebrow at Monroe who merely rolled his eyes in response.

"So why did they stop eating up here?" She directed the question at Madelyn who shot Monroe an uneasy look.

He took pity on her and answered, "I closed this room and Miles bedroom after he left. This is the first time anyone has been in here for five years."

So her new room was Miles' old bedroom.

She could live with that.

Charlie bit her lip, wondering if she could get away with asking anymore questions or if she had already pushed it too far. "So why did you decide to open it?"

Monroe scrunched up his nose, clearly wishing that she had asked a different question. "I just wanted you to be somewhere that I could keep an eye on you, since I clearly can't trust any of my men."

Immediately jumping on the defensive, Charlie said, "Chad was a good man."

He nodded sadly. "I know. He was one of the few good ones."

Finished with her hair, she dropped the towel into an empty chair and sat down to devour her oatmeal. Monroe joined her and they both ate at top speed under Madelyn's watchful eyes. She clicked her tongue at them, muttering under her breath about them making themselves sick while she dusted the neglected bookshelves.

Monroe finished first and Charlie made to push her bowl away too, but he pushed it back towards her. She glared at him but he didn't even flinch, just waited patiently for her to finish the last few bites. Madelyn hovered near the table, nodding her head in assent as they they rose from the table and took off out the living room door.

Out in the hallway, Charlie turned her head left and right. She only vaguely remembered Monroe bringing her upstairs the night before, so she had no idea where in the house they were or where Jeremy was. Monroe led her around the corner and down a flight of stairs, bringing them into a hallway near the dining room and giving Charlie what she needed to figure out where they were.

They turned a corner in the direction of the dining room but stopped at a door about halfway there. Two soldiers stood at attention and opened the door for them to enter. Dr. Huber was hovering over Jeremy, who was asleep on or unconscious, she wasn't sure which one.

"Report," Monroe demanded.

The doctor jumped, shooting Monroe a scared look. "He's alive, sir. It's touchy at the moment, he has yet to regain consciousness, but I was able to remove the bullet and fix the tear in his intestine, so the outlook is good. Now it's just a matter of keeping the wound clean and waiting."

Monroe nodded curtly before saying, "Thank you, doctor. Before you leave for the day, I'd like you to give Charlotte an exam, she-"

"Excuse me?" Charlie gave him her best you've-lost-your-God-damned-mind face, to which he merely rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, I don't want an exam."

Turning to face her directly, he said, "I didn't ask what you wanted, Charlotte. I said that you need an exam."

"I'm fine!" Charlie yelled into his face. "And if you seriously think that guy," she gestured wildly in the doctors direction, "is getting anywhere near me, then you're even crazier than I thought."

Monroe pursed his lips and clenched his fists, clearly trying to keep himself from shouting. "You're excused Dr. Huber," he said through gritted teeth, his eyes never leaving hers. He waited until the doctor scurried out of the room before opening his mouth again. "Charlotte, I'm trying to be nice to you. But you were almost raped yesterday, by an _actual_ crazy person, so just let the doctor look at you."

"No," Charlie looked directly into his eyes, trying to ignore the genuine concern she saw there. "Honestly, this bruise on my face is the worst that he did. I'm fine. Please, I don't need an exam."

Charlie saw the inner battle happening behind his eyes. Monroe reached out and gently ran a thumb over the bruise. When she didn't flinch away, he cupped her cheek, murmuring, "are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," she breathed back. Their faces were only inches apart, his eyes were focused on her bruise but Charlie found she couldn't bring herself to look away from the ocean blue of his eyes. She couldn't make herself pull away from him either.

Their little moment was interrupted by Madelyn bustling into the room with a cart loaded with ointments and clean bandages. Monroe snatched his hand back from her face and took several steps away from her. Charlie tried to push away her weird sadness at the loss of contact. Luckily, Madelyn didn't seem to notice their positions or their attitudes as she set to work laying out the items the doctor had asked for.

As she set a pot of boiling water on the table next to the bed, she turned to Monroe. "Lieutenant Johnson was looking for you Mr. President, apparently he's a little upset about you running around without your detail, especially after what happened yesterday."

Monroe scowled. "I'm the President, Madelyn, I can go wherever I want, whenever I want too."

"Of course, sir." She replied placatingly, which made him narrow his eyes in her direction.

"Let the Lieutenant know I'll be in my office waiting for an update," then turning to Charlie, he said, "come on."

Charlie followed him out of the room with raised eyebrows and followed him through the house, past the front doors, and towards his office before she spoke up. "Why am I coming with you?" She could tell that he was resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"Because I'm not letting you out of my sight."

She followed him along the hallway, passing a staircase she hadn't noticed the first time around, and found the door to his office guarded by only two men, instead of the usual four. They saluted and opened the door, letting them pass through before snapping it shut behind Charlie. Memories of the last time she had been in his office surfaced in her mind, and she pushed away the imaginary images of Jason lying dead on the floor with a bullet in his head.

Monroe collapsed into his desk chair and started reading through some of the papers on his desk, rubbing his temples. She took the rare opportunity to watch him in a different setting in stride, hanging back near the windows and pretending to look outside while watching his reflection in the glass. He frequently ran his fingers through his unruly curls, which were even messier than usual due to their late morning. She had to bite her tongue more than once to keep from laughing when he made faces at the reports in front of him, ranging from 'what is wrong with you people' to 'why did I hire such incompetent morons'.

After nearly an hour of Monroe-watching, Charlie was starting to get bored. "You know, I should probably go upstairs and get Xbox, he probably has to go to the bathroom."

Monroe gave her a funny look, like he had almost forgotten she was there, before saying, "I'll send Ramirez up to get him. You need to stay here."

Charlie huffed at him impatiently. "I can't just sit in here and watch you do paperwork all day, I'll go-"

Two sharp knocks on the door stopped her mid-rant and Charlie scowled at Johnson as he came into the room. "Good news, sir," he smiled happily, "Sergent Strausser was able to extract a full confession. The shooter acted on his own."

Monroe leaned forward in his chair. "What about Nevins, did you find out how he got into the building?"

Charlie felt her stomach swirl at just the mention of his name while Johnson continued, "yes, sir. Unfortunately, Nevins was able to acquire a uniform out of the laundry from the Academy. After that, it was just a matter of walking through the front door. The officers out front all said that since they recognized him, they didn't question his reason for being here. Apparently, he told several people that he had been away on an extended vacation."

Monroe stood abruptly from his desk, knocking over several stacks of paper and sending an ink well flying across the room. "Vacation?" He asked incredulously, "and they believed him? What, they don't remember him being sent off to a labor camp?"

Johnson swallowed thickly, clearly trying to appear unafraid. "Actually, sir, when Nevins was sent out, you ordered me not to give a reason to the staff. You just said to tell everyone that any contact with Miss Matheson would result in immediate discharge."

"Well, you'd think that they'd be able to figure it out!" Monroe yelled, before stopping himself by pursing his lips and pushing his hands into his pockets. He paced the room a few times, blowing angry breaths out of his nose before turning back to Johnson. "From now on, no one enters this building without my say so, understood?"

"Yes, sir," he nodded his head vigorously and fled the room, clearly happy to get out of there.

Monroe went back to his pacing, and Charlie left him alone for a few minutes so he could reign in his temper. "So you have the shooter, and no one helped Nevins get in. Can I go get Xbox now? I don't think that either of us want to deal with Madelyn if he goes to the bathroom all over the floor."

He looked over at her, his eyes scanning the bruise on her face once again before finally giving in. "Alright, fine. You get the dog, take him outside, and then go back upstairs. I don't want you wandering around the house until I can find someone else to be your guard."

Charlie nodded her head slowly, deciding not to mention the fact that he had said she wasn't allowed to wander _until_ he found her a new guard. Which implied that he planned to let her do so. Eventually.

As she stepped towards the door, she realized that she had no idea what had happened to her old guard. Turning back to Monroe, she asked, "what are you going to do with Chad's body?"

He stopped in front of his desk and gave her a sympathetic look. "He'll be buried tomorrow in the cemetery at the edge of town. He's being given full honors."

She nodded her head absently. "What about his family? His grandma and little sister live about an hour from here, they're gonna want to be there."

Monroe held out his hands to try and calm her down. "I know, I sent a rider out this morning. His family is being brought to town for the funeral." Charlie swallowed thickly, trying to keep the tears from falling down her cheeks as she left his office, leaving Monroe staring after her.

She managed to calm herself down as she ascended the stairs, marveling at how strange it was to be walking around Independence Hall without a shadow. As nice as it was to be alone though, she missed Chad's quiet presence at her side.

Finding her new bedroom was easy considering she hadn't gone up the same way she came down, and thankfully, Xbox had managed to hold it while she was gone. Charlie hurried them down to the courtyard and laughed when he ran directly over to his favorite bush and lifted his leg. She let the dog run around for a while, throwing his chew toy and letting him bring it back to her. After a while, she told one of the guards by the door that she was going to go back upstairs and that she'd be down to get him later.

As she passed the hallway that Monroe had killed Nevins in the night before though, she couldn't help but take a detour. Checking to make sure no one was around, and finding the empty hallways a bit odd, she made her way to her old bedroom. The door was open and as she stepped inside she was struck by how normal it looked. Madelyn had obviously been in to clean up the mess. There wasn't any blood on the floor where Chad's body had laid the night before.

Charlie's chin wobbled as she sat down on the floor where his body had been. She let the tears fall as she thought about his poor sister, not even sixteen and stuck being the sole provider for a baby and her grandmother, on top of losing her brother. Charlie's heart panged, thinking about Danny and how much she missed him. She had no idea what she would do if she ever lost her baby brother.

Her tears dried up and she rose slowly to her feet, stopping when something near the bed caught her eye. Charlie knelt down and picked up a ring off of the hardwood floor. She turned it over in her hand, examining the triangle with the eye in the middle.

She had spent nearly seventy days in this room and had never seen it before, which meant that someone else must have brought it in. Recently.

Which meant Nevins.

Charlie opened the window and tossed the cheap trinket out through the bars and onto the lawn below.

* * *

><p>AN I think that now would probably be a good time to remind all of you that the summary says 'slow-burn Charloe'. :-) Lol, but we are getting there. Slowly. Thanks for sticking with me guys, leave a review if you have a sec!


	13. Chapter 13

**Day 70**

Monroe came out of his room still buttoning up his jacket while Charlie thumbed through his morning reports. "Anything good?"

She smirked, not looking up from the one she was reading. "If by 'good' you mean moronic, then yes. Apparently, two Privates in Baltimore, accidently shot at each other because they thought the other was an intruder." At Monroe's incredulous look she continued, "one of them missed completely, the other only managed to graze his buddy's leg."

"You have got to be kidding me," he whined.

"Nope," Charlie let the 'P' pop from her lips. "You should really consider raising your standards for recruitment."

Rolling his eyes, Monroe sat down and started to eat, not even attempting to take the stack of reports from her. Charlie continued to read them, occasionally chuckling at the officers' incompetence.

"Private Riley's funeral is this morning at nine o'clock," he said, bringing Charlie out of her morning fun.

"Oh." That was all she could think to say about it.

Monroe nodded slowly, she could tell that he was thinking really hard about something. "I was thinking... " he swallowed thickly, "I was thinking that maybe you might like to go." He was staring determinedly down at his plate.

"Are you serious?"

She could see him biting the inside of his cheek before he finally answered, still squinting at the plate in front of him. "I figured you might want to pay your respects."

"Yes," Charlie was barely able to keep herself from jumping out of her seat, afraid that maybe he was just joking, "of course I want to go."

Monroe nodded. "Alright, we need to leave by eight if we want to be there on time."

"Wait, we?"

"Yes, Charlotte," he smirked at her, "we. I was planning on going anyway. Private Riley was assigned to my home and died defending it. I think that's worthy of a trip out of the house."

Charlie smiled, checking the clock on the wall behind Monroe's head. It was 7:15, which meant she only had forty-five minutes to finish breakfast and get ready. Monroe left not much later, grudgingly taking his reports with him, and Charlie set off for her closet so she could change.

The ever growing wardrobe in her closet was ridiculous. If Madelyn didn't stop buying her clothes soon, then she'd probably have enough outfits to wear something different everyday of the year.

Ok, maybe not everyday, but there were seriously a lot of clothes in there.

She pushed the everyday clothes aside, looking for a dressy pair of pants and a nice shirt when Madelyn appeared behind her. "Actually, Miss Matheson, I was thinking you could wear this."

Charlie turned around to see Madelyn holding up a black dress with short sleeves, and a modest neckline. As much as Charlie hated dresses, this one was simple enough that she thought she might be able to bear it in memory of her friend. She pulled it on and let Madelyn button up the back for her. It reached down past her knees and the older woman gave her a pair of black sandals to match it with. Charlie would have much rather worn her boots, but counted herself lucky that she hadn't given her heels to wear.

After Madelyn fixed her hair, the woman had insisted of course, Charlie wandered back into the living room to wait. She ran her fingers over the many books lining the shelves. Most of them were history related, American history to be exact. Some were about the Revolutionary War and the building of the American government, but the vast majority all seemed centered around the Civil War. She picked a book at random, it was larger than most of the other books on the shelf - it was apparently an old textbook about the American government, and sat down on the couch to read while she waited for Monroe.

OpOpOpOpOp

Why was he so nervous?

It was probably just because the last time he tried to leave the house, someone tried to assassinate him.

Yeah. That was totally it.

It had absolutely nothing to do with not wanting to let Charlotte out of the house because he was afriad she'd leave. She needed to go, she needed to grieve. If nothing else, that was something he understood. But his ever growing attraction to the girl, he'd been calling her that in his head to try and remind himself of who she was, was really starting to make things difficult.

He couldn't even imagine what Nevins had done to her, not that he really wanted too, it made him sick to his stomach every time he tried. But he couldn't seem to stop the mental images of Charlotte sitting next to him in her doorway, wearing his jacket, and thanking him with genuine sincerity and trust in her eyes.

She had somehow managed to weasel her way under his skin and into his heart. No matter what he was doing, it was like he could feel her blue gaze on him, even when she wasn't in the room. Disappointment or disapproval, the benefit of the doubt or even simple understanding, Charlotte ruled his thoughts from the moment his eyes opened in the morning until the moment he fell asleep.

But, he wasn't obsessed or anything.

Because that would be absolutely ridiculous.

Oh, who the hell was he kidding? He was so fucked.

Bass opened the living room door to find Charlotte curled up on the couch reading an old, high school textbook. She set it down on the arm of the couch as he approached and smiled at him, her eyes were soft and kind, her face relaxed.

Fuck, she was beautiful.

"Are we ready to go?" She asked.

Reminding himself to calm the fuck down and behave, Bass nodded and held out a hand to pull her off of the couch. To his surprise, she took it, standing up and adjusting her dress. "Does this look alright to wear to a funeral?"

He looked her up and down. The dress surely wasn't meant to be sexy, it fit her curves nicely, but didn't cling to her body, and the neckline was more than enough to keep her smaller breasts covered.

It kind of looked like a dressy, black nightgown.

Well, they were going to a funeral, so he figured that's what it was supposed to look like.

That didn't stop her from looking fucking amazing though.

"It's perfect. You look beautiful, Charlotte." Bass had to bite back a smile at the blush that crept up her neck.

Even if she was off limits, it was still fun to play.

Man, he really needed to get laid.

OpOpOpOpOp

Charlie tried to pretend that she hadn't just blushed because Monroe, of all the guys on the planet, had called her beautiful. He offered her his arm and as much as she knew she should refuse it, she found herself sliding her arm under his. They walked silently through the house, Lieutenant Johnson and the rest of his detail joining them at the stairs, and left the house through the front doors.

It felt so strange to actually be outside, standing on the sidewalk that she'd been watchig through the windows for so long. Guards Jane and John were less than ten feet away, and Charlie had to bite her tongue to stop herself from asking John if he had finally mustered up the courage to ask Jane out on a date yet.

Judging by John's surly attitude, he hadn't.

Monroe helped her into the wagon with a hand on the small of her back and she let him, her need to put distance between them seeming to vanish when she remembered him snapping a man's neck just to rescue her.

Rescue. Like she was some dumb princess that needed to be saved.

Yeah. Fucking. Right.

Then again, there was no denying that he did save her. But it was hard to admit. The Matheson in her wanted to insist that she would have been fine, that she would have figured it out on her own. But the reality was that if Monroe hadn't been there, she had no idea what she would have done.

As the wagon rolled out of town, Charlie tried to focus on enjoying her first trip outside in the past two and a half months, but everytime she started to smile when she saw kids running in the street or vendors bartering with customers, the image of Chad's dead body would invade her mind. Eventually, she gave up trying to enjoy it, deciding to stare at her hands in her lap and listen to the clip-clop of the horses hooves on the road. She could feel Monroe's eyes sweep over her every few minutes and she tried to convince herself that he was just checking to make sure she wasn't planning to escape. But then she'd think about the kindness in his eyes, the way he'd protected her, him calling her beautiful... It seemed like everyday, it got more and more difficult to pretend that she didn't notice the way he looked at her, or worse, the way it made her stomach flip and her heart flutter every time he did.

There was a small group of people congregated in the center of the cemetery. Charlie, Monroe, and his detail dismounted the wagon and slowly made their way toward the group of people. Most of them were other soldiers dressed in uniform, but Charlie only cared about the young girl standing at the center of the group, holding a baby.

Ellie, Charlie assumed that's who she was, had darker hair than Chad, though her eyes were the same shape and shade of bright green. She had a kind face, but looked unusually worn for someone so young. The baby was snoozing gently on his mother's shoulder, his little face completely relaxed, unaware of the hurt that plagued his family, his tiny fist curled in the fabric of his mother's shirt.

Charlie stood at the edge of the group with Johnson, feeling a bit like an intruder. Monroe went towards Ellie and spoke to her briefly, shaking her hand and patting the baby's head before the ceremony started.

She managed to only shed a few tears through it, having absolutely no idea how Ellie stayed so calm in the face of her brother's death. When it was over, Johnson grabbed her elbow, trying to steer her back towards the wagon, earning himself a glare. He quickly let her go and Charlie went straight for Ellie, ignoring the shocked look on Monroe's face as she approach her.

"Hi, um..." Charlie felt stupid as the girl's red rimmed eyes met hers, she hadn't even thought about what she would say. "Uh, you don't know me, but I knew your brother. He was-"

"You must be Charlie," Ellie said, smiling slightly while she looked her over. At Charlie's confused expression, she laughed, saying, "Chad told me all about you in his letters. Blonde hair, blue eyes, beautiful, and too nice for your own good."

Charlie chuckled, "yeah, he may have been right about that last one." Ellie nodded, switching Tyler's weight to her other arm. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for your loss. Chad was a good man."

Ellie blinked back a few tears and cleared her throat. "Thank you, that means a lot. I know you'll think I'm weird, but Chad told me so much about you that I kinda feel like I know you already. I knew it was you before you even got off of the wagon."

"It's not weird," Charlie assured her, "he told me so much about you that I kinda feel the same way. You're a brave girl, Ellie, I don't know how you do it." She nodded her head, indicating the sleeping baby.

Shrugging, Ellie said, "he's my little angel. I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Where's your grandma?" Charlie looked around, expecting to see the woman somewhere.

"She couldn't come. She's just too sick, so I've got a friend back home looking after her."

Charlie felt her chest tighten. All Chad had wanted was a chance to see his grandma one last time before she died, and it broke her heart that that was never going to happen. He wouldn't even make it to her funeral.

"Im so sorry, Ellie," Charlie whispered, her tears threatening at the corner of her eyes.

Ellie just nodded her head, breathing deeply and wiping at her cheeks. "It wasn't your fault. The soldiers told me he died in the line of duty. He wanted to be a soldier so bad, and he knew what the consequences could be."

Charlie nodded, not even bothering to hide her tears as she embraced the younger girl. She hugged her as tight as she could with the baby between them before stepping back and clearing her throat. "I should go. I'm glad that I got to meet you, I'm just sorry it had to be like this."

Ellie gave her a watery smile, reaching out to squeeze her hand. "Me too, Charlie," she leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "good luck with Monroe."

Cracking a real smile, Charlie said, "don't worry, I've got him under control."

Parting ways with Ellie, Charlie trudged along to the front of the cemetery, finding Monroe and the detail waiting patiently for her. Everyone except for Monroe was already loaded up, he was waiting at the back of the wagon to help her up into her seat. Sitting down, Charlie felt just a little lighter, the sting of losing such a good friend would always hurt, but she knew she was going to make it.

Monroe sat next to her, their shoulders bumping with each gentle sway of the wagon. Charlie could tell he had something on his mind, so she remained silent, waiting for him to speak up.

"Whose baby was that?" He asked quietly.

Charlie couldn't help but raise her eyebrows at him, the question seeming to come out of no where. "That's Tyler, Ellie's son, and Chad's nephew."

"That little girl is that baby's mother?" Charlie merely nodded, unsure of why he cared. "But she doesn't look like she's older than thirteen."

Charlie sighed, picking at her fingernails in her lap. "She's actually fifteen. Sixteen next month. And the baby... it wasn't her... it wasn't her fault." She looked up, meeting Monroe's eyes and watching the comprehension fall on his over his face. Eyes narrowed, lips pulled in a tight line, anger and frustration evident in his face.

"Actually, I think that's the real reason why Chad wanted to join the militia," Charlie told him. "Chad said that he only did it so he could provide for Ellie and the baby, but I think that deep down, he was angry with himself for not being able to protect his baby sister. So he went out and turned himself into a trained soldier."

Monroe sat silently beside her for so long that Charlie wondered if he had even been listening in the first place, but he eventually asked, "who's going to take care of them now?"

She shrugged. "Chad was the only family she had. Their dad died at the Georgian border, their mom was a drug-addicted prostitute, and their grandma is on her death bed as we speak. Ellie's on her own."

He nodded, pursing his lips like he wanted to say something. "That was a good thing you did back there," he said softly, "talking to her, I mean."

"I just felt like... I don't know, like I owed her that much. If it weren't for me, Chad wouldn't even have-"

"Hey," Monroe cut her off, grabbing her hand and squeezing it, his eyes boring into hers. "Riley died doing his job. He was a trained soldier, tasked to protect you. He died an honorable death. Don't try to take that from him by making it about you."

Charlie blinked back tears, tearing her eyes from his penetrating gaze. She felt him squeeze her hand again, the warm pressure comforting against the emotions battling in her chest. They stayed that way the entire journey back to Independence Hall, sitting shoulder to shoulder, their fingers intertwined in her lap.

OpOpOpOpOp

It was late, Bass was sitting in his office, staring at the many slips of paper littering his desk. Blowing out a frustrated breath, he scooped them up and crushed them into a ball, tossing it into the trash bin by the door.

Why was this so damn hard?

Grabbing a fresh sheet, he jotted down the first thing that came to mind.

_Dear Ellie,_

_I know that nothing anyone says or does is going to make it better. I wish that I could tell you that the pain gets better with time, but I'd be lying if I did. Losing a sibling is like losing a part of yourself. Nothing will make the pain go away, but hopefully this will help ease the burden._

_A friend._

Bass took a deep breath, reading over the words again before shoving the note into an envelope addressed to Elanor Riley and sealing it shut so he wouldn't be able to change his mind. Grabbing the pouch full of diamonds, he opened his office door and handed the pouch and the envelope to Lieutenant Johnson.

"I want this delivered first thing in the morning. Discreetly."

**Day 71**

Charlie was relaxing in a chair next to Jeremy's bed reading the old history textbook, he still hadn't regained consciousness yet, but the wound didn't look infected and he didn't have a fever. The doctor said that the trauma must have really affected him, and that Jeremy just needed some time to sleep it off.

Monroe had disappeared during breakfast after an urgent note had arrived. He'd stuck around long enough to tell her not to go anywhere without Johnson, but had refused to tell her what was wrong.

And she knew something was wrong. Whatever had been written on that little slip of paper had been enough to send Monroe into panic mode, which really wasn't that hard, but still a cause for concern. Charlie was trying to distract herself by memorizing the amendments to the United States Constitution when Monroe came into the room, looking worried.

She immediately closed the book and asked, "what happened?"

Monroe shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "The shooter that we had in custody escaped this morning."

Charlie gave him a confused look. "I thought Johnson said that he confessed..."

"He did, what does that have to do with anything?"

"Nothing, I just..." she paused, thinking over her words, "I figured that you had him executed already."

Monroe sighed, giving her a sideways glance. "I wanted to, but Sergeant Strausser wanted to question him about some other incidents first."

"Oh," Charlie tried not to think about how Strausser 'questioned' people. "So did they catch him?"

"No, a group of men chased him into an alley, and then watched him fall flat on his face right in front of them. He's dead."

"What? How?"

"Apparently," he turned to her with an odd expression, "the bastard had a cyanide tooth. Cracked it open while he was running. He preferred suicide over being apprehended."

"But," Charlie looked at him questioningly, "if he was just going to kill himself anyway, why bother running?"

Monroe's lips stretched into a grim smile. "Man, you are just like Miles. Strategic in everything you do, and suspicious of everything everyone else does." Charlie merely raised an eyebrow at his comment, causing him to chuckle as he plopped down in the seat on the opposite side of Jeremy's bed. "I don't know why he did it, Charlotte. I've been wondering myself. But the only explanation I can come up with is that he wasn't planning on killing himself. I think he was really just trying to get away."

Understanding crossed her face as she absent mindedly traced the outline of the old U.S. dollar printed on her book. "And you think that when he realized that he was caught, he killed himself, rather than getting brought back in."

"Yes."

"Why though? I mean, he had already confessed to the shooting."

Monroe smiled again. "Exactly. Why should he kill himself? Unless..." his voice trailed off, clearly waiting for her to catch up with what he was implying.

Charlie thought hard, trying to channel her inner Miles. "There was more to it." She said quickly, "he killed himself so he couldn't reveal the rest of the plan."

Monroe nodded grimly. "And since he's dead now, we'll never know who was really behind the shooting."

They sat there for a while, both watching the steady rise and fall of Jeremy's chest. Charlie eventually turned her attention back to her book, he finger still gently tracing the outer edge of the back of a one dollar bill. Her eyes followed her finger, but stopped as they roamed over the picture of the pyramid. Something tugged at the back of her mind, trying to weave its way to the surface.

"What's wrong?" Monroe asked.

She looked up to find him watching her. "Nothing," she said, shaking her head. But whatever it was in the back of her head kept picking at the side of her brain. "It's just... this pyramid... something about it," she said softly, "it's familiar."

She didn't pay him any attention as he got up from his seat to stand behind her, hovering over her shoulder and looking at the picture. Her finger hovered near the top of the pyramid and just as Charlie was sure it was on the tip of her tongue, Monroe asked in a low voice, "what are you looking at?"

His strange tone made her turn to look at him, his face was carefully blank as he stared down at her. Something about his gaze suddenly made her feel uneasy. "Are you alright?" She asked him nervously.

"Don't change the subject, Charlotte," he snapped. "What are you looking at?"

"The-the triangle!" She sputtered, "what is your problem?"

"Why?" He demanded. "Why are you looking at it? Have you seen it before?"

"What?" Her confusion was evident on her face. "What the hell are you-" Charlie stopped, the image of the ring she had found on the floor of her old bedroom swimming to the surface of her mind. "It was on a ring," she said slowly, looking up at him, but not really seeing while she was lost in thought.

"What do you mean, Charlotte? What ring?" His questions were urgent, but his voice had quieted, his eyes scanning her face for the slightest hint of deception. Charlie gave him a strange look.

Why did he care so much about a stupid ring? It was just a damn triangle.

"I found it on the floor in my old room the day after... you know... Nevins was there." Monroe stepped back a bit, taking a deep breath. Charlie could tell that something was going on, but whatever it was, she was completely missing it. "What? I don't get it, why-"

"Come on," Monroe grabbed her arm and all but dragged her from the chair, causing her book to drop to the ground as he pulled her into the hallway.

She finally managed to extract herself from his grasp a few turns around the corners later and glared at him. "What is your problem? It's just a stupid ring!"

He stopped, giving her a serious look. "Had you seen it before? Do you know where it came from, or how it got in your room?"

Sighing in exasperation, she said, "no. I had never seen it before, so I figured Nevins must have dropped it while he was... busy."

Monroe nodded, biting the inside of his cheek as he looked up and down the hallway suspiciously. He leaned in close and whispered, "I need to show you something."

Whatever this was, it clearly had Monroe spooked, so Charlie allowed him to take her hand and lead her to his office. He hurried them inside, shutting the door firmly behind him before heading over to one of the bookshelves by the fireplace. Charlie watched him move several books from the top shelf and reach back behind where they had been, pulling out a leather bound journal.

What the fuck was he doing?!

He gestured for her to join him at his desk as he started flipping through the pages, clearly searching for something specific. Finally he stopped and slid the book her way. It was a hand drawn picture of a ring, either crudely made or badly drawn, but there was no mistaking that it was the same ring she had found on the floor. The triangle with the eye in the middle was clearly visible.

Charlie looked at him, more confused now than she had been five minutes ago. "Ok, that's the ring, but what does that have to do with anything? What's the big deal, it's just a ring."

Monroe sighed and sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk, gesturing for her to do the same. "It's kind of a long story, so I'll just give you the condensed version for now." Charlie plopped down in the seat, waving her arm at him to get started.

"I drew that ring a few weeks ago. It belonged to a man named Randal Flynn, who came to visit me. He claims that he worked with your parents on the Department of Defense project that caused the blackout." Charlie opened her mouth to protest her parents involvement, but he simply shook his head. "Look, I don't know how they were involved, but I know that they were. Rachel is the one that built the amplifier, so she had to have known something about it.

"Anyway, Flynn came here claiming that he knows how to turn the power back on. Like, all of it, and he says that the only reason he hasn't done it already is because he needs my men and my equipment to do it."

Charlie screwed up her face in concentration. "So, do you think he can? Why haven't you just done it already then?"

Monroe shook his head. "My mom used to tell me that if anything seems to good to be true, then it probably is. Think about it, Charlotte, I've spent the last decade trying to get the power back, and now all of a sudden this guy comes out of no where and claims he can do it with just the flip of a switch? Seems a little to good to be true to me."

"So, what, you just told him you weren't interested?"

" 'Course not, I just told him that I would think about it. He's come back a few times since then, trying to convince me, but I send him away every time." Monroe leaned forward in his chair, "but that's not my point. Flynn has the exact same ring that Nevins did, what if they were working together."

Charlie blinked at him. "Ok, I think that you're being a little paranoid-"

"Come on, Charlotte. Don't tell me that you can't see this!" He got up and started pacing the room. "Flynn keeps telling me that if I turn the power back on, I can get rid of Georgia once and for all, but I keep turning him down. It can't be a coincidence that a rebel shooter with Georgia backing suddenly tries to take me out, which would make me want to retaliate by getting rid of them."

"I thought you said Nevins and Flynn were working together, not the shooter."

Monroe threw his hands up in exasperation. "Do you really think that Nevins and the shooter attacked at the exact same time just by luck? They had to have all been working together!"

He was working himself up into a full blown rant, and Charlie wasn't sure she wanted to see what that looked like. "Ok, ok..." she said gently, trying to coax him back into his chair, "let's say you're right. But think about it, if Flynn really needed you, why would he have someone try to kill you?"

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, resting his elbows on his knees. "Because he didn't," Monroe's head snapped up, "he wanted it to look like Georgia was trying to take me out, so that I would give him what he wanted."

Charlie sat back in her chair. As much as she hated to admit it, that actually kind of made sense. Attacking anyone's home would of course put them on the defensive, Monroe even more than most. Whoever this Flynn guy was, he definitely knew what he was doing. But it was a little thin, the only actual evidence they had was that Flynn and Nevins had matching rings. Maybe it was just a coincidence.

"We need more proof," she said quietly.

He nodded, his eyes staring unseeingly out the window. Suddenly jumping from his chair, Monroe went to the door and barked at Johnson, "find Strausser and bring him to me. Now." Charlie pulled a face at the mention of the less than pleasant officer. "Hey, I don't like him anymore than you do, but as nuts as that guy is, he's at least loyal."

Charlie decided not to point out the fact that if Strausser was the only one that was loyal to him, then he was probably doing something wrong. She watched him pace back and fourth while they waited, and cringed when someone knocked on the door. Monroe yanked it open and ushered the older man into the room.

"Sir, is something wrong?"

Ignoring Strausser's question, Monroe said, "I want you to dig up Nevins' body."

Strausser's eyebrows shot up. "Sir?"

"You heard me. I want you to dig up the body and check something for me."

Strausser nodded, a creepy little smile tugging at the corner of his lips, making Charlie's stomach curl. "What exactly am I looking for, sir?"

Monroe sent her a sideways glance before saying, "check his mouth for anything... unusual. Then report directly back to me. Tell no one else, and don't let anyone see you doing it."

Strausser's smile grew as he backed towards the door. "Absolutely, sir. I'll have a report for you first thing in the morning."

Charlie waited until Strausser left before turning to Monroe. "You're thinking that Nevins had a cyanide tooth as well."

Monroe nodded. "We know that Nevins and Flynn were working together, if Nevins had a cyanide tooth then that ties the shooter in there too."

"Alright, let's say you're right. Even if they were all working together, why does it matter?"

"Because," Monroe was practically bouncing with barely contained energy, "if we're right, then Flynn isn't just going to give up. He's going to keep trying until he gets what he wants, which is..." he trailed off, waiting for her to finally put it all together.

"The power."

"Exactly," he grinned at her, "which means that now we need to figure out what we are going to do with this," he pulled a chain from around his neck and tossed it to her, the pendant landing in her lap.

And just when she thought she was done with all this magic necklace shit.

* * *

><p>AN So, this is the longest chapter yet! I figured I'd give you guys a long one because it might be a while until the next update. Unfortunately, my mother volunteered me to be in charge of the decorations and the sound for her church's Easter cantata, and much like Rachel Matheson, it's usually easier just to do what she wants rather than argue with her about it. So basically, my writing time has been hijacked by Jesus until after Easter (which is April 5th, for anyone who doesn't know :-)). All whining aside, thanks for reading guys and leave me a comment if you're feeling extra nice. :-)


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